


strawberry mouth

by thenightbefore



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: First Time Blow Jobs, First Time for Everything Fest, Grinding, Love Bites, M/M, Neck Kissing, Porn with Feelings, Power Dynamics, Public Hand Jobs, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Smut, Teasing, Under the Table, dubious consent kinda sorta
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-10-31 19:28:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17855609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenightbefore/pseuds/thenightbefore
Summary: Wonwoo smirks at Mingyu’s expression, and oh. Mingyu gets it. This is a challenge.It’s not flirting. It’s something more absurd, something only Wonwoo could come up with. They both love winning insufferably, to the point that most members hate playing games with them, but this - this is new territory even for Mingyu.Still, there’s something in Wonwoo’s eyes, and Mingyu has never been able to resist playing along.[or the fic where Mingyu and Wonwoo one-up each other with sexual teasing until they reach their breaking point]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry. this isn't TOO nsfw, but it's still sinful. enjoy <3

Mingyu doesn’t know how exactly it begins, but one summer evening, Wonwoo decides to start a game that _neither_ of them can come back from. It starts simple. They’re in the kitchen, and Mingyu is cooking ramen. Wonwoo’s leaning on the counter watching him.

“Care to help?” Mingyu gestures to the stove. The steam rises from the pot and warms his cheeks.

“Not really,” Wonwoo says. “I’m very comfortable just watching.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes. "I really shouldn't feed you. Next time I’ll make enough only for the other members.”

“You want me to go hungry?”

Mingyu doesn’t fall for his innocent expression. “It would serve you right.” He raises the spoon in his hand threateningly. Wonwoo chuckles, and it’s this low, silky laugh, all velvety and deep, and Mingyu’s heart flutters a little. He feels a bit lightheaded ( _from the heat, he tells himself)_ and turns his attention back to the ramen.

He stirs it absentmindedly. A few moments pass.

Mingyu hears a whine. “Gy _uu,_ is it done yet?”

The way Wonwoo says _gyu_ makes Mingyu soften. Wonwoo doesn’t use the nickname that often, usually only when he’s sleepy or tired, or in this case hungry, but it’s always a little too cute for Mingyu to handle.

Mingyu offers a glance. “I’m cooking for thirteen. Patience.”

Wonwoo scoffs. “Maybe you’re just slow."

“Someone’s grumpy.” Mingyu points with the spoon. “Just tide yourself over. Eat those strawberries or something.”

There’s a bowl of fresh strawberries left out on the counter, courtesy of Seungkwan who had started to eat them before Hansol had distracted him with memes. Wonwoo stares at Mingyu, and does this _thing_ with his mouth. Mingyu doesn’t think it’s meant to be a pout, because Wonwoo wouldn’t be caught dead pouting, but it’s something _like_ a pout, and it makes his lower lip look fuller.

Mingyu’s eyes flicker down to Wonwoo’s lips, just a for a second, and Wonwoo’s face changes into an unreadable expression.

 _The heat… it’s a hot summer day, and ramen on top of that. That’s all. It’s just messing with my head._ Mingyu turns back around, and breathes out silently, eyes focused on what he’s making. Sometimes Wonwoo’s a little too pretty for his own good, and Mingyu hates it, because he’s _definitely straight_ but Wonwoo’s just… well, he’s _Wonwoo._

“Mingyu.”

Mingyu ignores the call.

“Mingyu!” Wonwoo demands.

“I said that it’ll take awhi-” Mingyu starts, but his words fade as he turns around.

Wonwoo’s decided to lean against the counter, his pretty mouth puckered around the strawberry, eyes dark and tilitating and staring _right_ _at Mingyu._ Wonwoo sucks on the strawberry slowly, and the colour from the juice has stained his lips as pink as the berry itself.

Mingyu’s face burns. He swallows. “What are you doing?” he asks, mouth dry.

Wonwoo licks his tongue around the strawberry. “I think you were right,” he murmurs. “This will help tide me over.” He’s literally _sucking on a strawberry, staring at Mingyu with darkened eyes,_ and Mingyu thinks this might be it. The cause of his death will be the dork that is Jeon Wonwoo teasing him with a strawberry.

“I’m always right.” Mingyu tries for confident, but it comes out weak.

“Are you?” Wonwoo doesn’t break eye contact. He swallows the strawberry, but his lips are glistening and soft, and Mingyu finds it hard to breathe. Is Wonwoo… is Wonwoo flirting with him? It’s absurd, Mingyu knows it’s absurd, because it’s Wonwoo and they’re _just friends_ and their relationship is strictly platonic but-

Wonwoo smirks at Mingyu’s expression, and _oh._ Mingyu gets it. This is a challenge.

It’s not flirting. It’s something more absurd, something only Wonwoo could come up with. They both love winning insufferably, to the point that most members hate playing games with them, but this _\- this_ is new territory even for Mingyu.

Still, there’s something in Wonwoo’s eyes, and Mingyu has never been able to resist playing along.

He lets himself smile. “I’m glad it’s tiding you over, because the main course… well,” Mingyu says, narrowing his eyes, and he slides his hand down his own torso, subtly but with intention. “That’s going to be something you won’t be able to resist.”

Wonwoo’s eyes flash and the game is on.

* * *

“Is it just me, or are those jeans way too tight for Mingyu?” Jeonghan utters. Mingyu hears the comment and smiles. The jeans he’s wearing are skin tight, a size too small, and hug his ass like there’s no tomorrow. It’s not a pair he wears often, but today he flaunts them.

Wonwoo’s sitting on the couch next to Jeonghan and pointedly avoids eye contact.

“Really, Mingyu, what’s up with those? They look like they’re going to cut off your circulation,” Jeonghan says, concerned.

Mingyu smiles. “Nah, don’t worry Hyung. I wore them because they look hot on me.”

Wonwoo can’t resist making a comment. “Yeah, or you forgot to do the laundry,” he says.

“I’m the only one who even cleans!” Mingyu protests. Wonwoo shrugs, eyes still on his cell phone, and Mingyu frowns because Wonwoo got him _so flustered_ yesterday and Mingyu isn’t doing as well as he’d thought.

He’s still not sure why they’re playing this subtle game of what’s essentially gay chicken, but Mingyu knows he has a _great ass_ and he’s determined to prove it. He crosses to the TV, pretending to look for something.

“Has anyone seen my phone charger? I think I lost it.” It’s a blatant lie, but it gives him an excuse to bend down and look under the TV. He can feel the jeans stretch nicely over his ass and he hopes Wonwoo is looking. When he turns back around, Wonwoo’s eyes are on him, but they flick away when Mingyu meets his gaze.

“Where, oh where, is my charger?” Mingyu wonders loudly.

Wonwoo is staying silent, acting like his cell phone is the most interesting thing in the world. Jeonghan glances between the two contemplatively, and seems to understand that this is part of some… _weird Mingyu-Wonwoo thing._

Mingyu’s original plan was to just flaunt his ass from afar, but before he can control himself, he strides over to the couch, and he sees Wonwoo’s hand tense around his cell phone. “Maybe my charger’s under the coffee table,” Mingyu says decidedly.

The coffee table is in front of the couch, and it would make sense for Mingyu to look under it by bending from the opposite side, but he instead squeezes into the space between the couch and the table, so that his body is inches away from Wonwoo. “Sorry, Wonwoo-hyung,” he says as he looks under the table, hair falling in front of his face. He’s pretty sure his ass is basically in Wonwoo’s face at this point, and Mingyu’s heart is pounding out of his chest. He hadn’t intended to go this far.

He stays down there for a moment. “Not here,” Mingyu mutters, and as he stands back up, he _accidentally?_ hits Wonwoo’s face with his ass. It’s only a little brush, and Mingyu’s not really sure what he’s doing anymore. “Sorry,” he says, and it’s half-truthful.

When he gets out of the space and looks, Wonwoo’s cheeks are warmly pink, and the boy has decided that the ceiling is apparently fascinating to observe. His hands are clenched so tightly around his phone that Mingyu honestly thinks he might break it. Across from the couch, Jeonghan is staring with wide eyes.

“Did you just - “ Jeonghan says, eyes narrowing. “What just happened here?”

Mingyu’s hair is disheveled, and his heart is racing. He can’t form a response.

Wonwoo looks uncomfortably at the ceiling, and says, “Nothing. It’s… nothing.” His voice sounds strained, and Mingyu counts that as a big win on his part. Wonwoo’s always been more composed than Mingyu, so any reaction out of Wonwoo is a victory as far as Mingyu’s concerned.

Jeonghan just looks between the both of them, trying to figure out the details of their shenanigans.

Wonwoo rubs the back of his neck and stands up. “I have to go...  uh… I have stuff to do.” He glances at Mingyu for a split second, and this time Mingyu looks away, because he’s _really_ not sure what game they’re playing here.

Wonwoo looks at him for a moment more, then hurries off like he might die any moment.

Mingyu runs a hand through his hair. Then he winces, because these pants really _are_ too tight, and he’s starting to wonder if any of this is as platonic as he first thought.

* * *

 A week passes, and Wonwoo doesn’t do anything. Mingyu thinks, _okay, good, maybe this is over, and we can pretend those embarrassing things never happened._

Mingyu certainly doesn’t want to think about how he strut his ass in front of Wonwoo, and he definitely doesn’t want to think about Wonwoo’s pretty mouth around that strawberry. Mingyu shakes his head. No. He definitely does not.

“I hope we can all fit in the cab,” Seungcheol says.

It’s around 11 PM, and the sky is dark, littered with stars. There’s a slight summer breeze and the streets smell like Korean food and alcohol. The five of them - Seungcheol, Mingyu, Wonwoo, Soonyoung and Seokmin - had headed out to grab some food and drinks for the evening. They didn’t usually spend time off like this, but the weather was perfect and they’d needed a break.

None of them drank much, but Mingyu can still feel the warmth of alcohol in his system. He glances over to his right. Wonwoo’s skin looks especially dewy and nice under the bright moonlight. Mingyu must have been staring, because Wonwoo meets his face, and smiles.

“Today was nice,” he says.

Mingyu nods. “Yeah. I mean, sorry we went to a seafood place. I know you can’t... you know.”

“It’s okay,” Wonwoo says graciously. “I didn’t mind. They had other food.”

Mingyu nods, and they share a smile, one that feels a little too intimate and sweet. Even though him and Wonwoo are always bickering, there are still moments where Wonwoo softens around him. They’re friends, after all, and always will be. There’s no one Mingyu trusts more.

“Okay, let’s just try to fit.” Seungcheol runs a hand through his hair, opening the door to the passenger seat of the cab. “Squeeze in, guys.”

Soonyoung and Seokmin slide into the backseat first, and Mingyu barely jams himself into the remaining space. They all look over at Wonwoo, who seems to realize that there’s no way in hell he can fit.

“Shit,” Soonyoung says. “Won, you can’t fit in?”

“Not with this giant boar taking up all the room,” Wonwoo declares. He doesn’t have to say Mingyu’s name to make his point.

“A boar?” Mingyu demands.

Wonwoo sniffs. “Yes.”

“I say we leave him,” Mingyu says. “He can walk back.”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, hand reaching for his wallet. “It’s fine, I’ll go in a separate cab.”

Seungcheol seems to finally catch on to the dilemma. “You guys really are hopeless without me. Wonwoo, you’re skinny. Sit on someone’s lap and let’s get going. We have practice in the morning."

“Someone’s lap?” Wonwoo sounds aghast.

“Yes, _someone’s lap._ ” Seungcheol’s voice is amused now.

“Yeah, but-”

“I’m your hyung.” That seems to be his final argument.

Wonwoo stares at the three members seated in the passenger seat, and his eyes finally settle on Mingyu. Something shifts in his expression. “Fine.” Wonwoo curls into the space, and tentatively sits down on Mingyu’s lap, closing the door behind him. Mingyu’s heart flutters for a moment, because Wonwoo could have sat on anyone’s lap, but he chose him. Granted, Mingyu was the closest one, but _still._

It feels oddly nice to have Wonwoo seated on his lap, like he belongs to Mingyu, and _oh dear god, he did not just think that. He did not just think that._ Mingyu rapidly shakes his head. It must be the alcohol.

As they drive down the road, Mingyu stares out at the flashing city lights passing by. The city looks so lively and vibrant, and Mingyu is lost in the scenery when they past a sudden roadbump. Wonwoo stumbles in Mingyu’s lap, and Mingyu’s hands, without thinking, reach for both sides of Wonwoo’s waist.

Mingyu’s hands are clammy as they rest on Wonwoo’s tiny waist, and Wonwoo stills in his lap, like he’s afraid to move. The ride smoothes out, and Mingyu _knows_ he should remove his hands, but he can’t let go. It feels good to hold Wonwoo, like it’s the most natural thing in the universe. People have always told them that they look good together, but Mingyu had never seen how until now.

They just _worked._

Platonically of course.

Wonwoo shifts in Mingyu’s lap, and the pressure makes Mingyu flush slightly. He knows Wonwoo is probably doing it innocently, so Mingyu tries to focus on the scenery again.

But then Wonwoo shifts again. And again. And it’s starting to be too frequent for Mingyu to brush it off as innocent. The pressure of Wonwoo’s ass in his lap, shifting so much, is causing Mingyu to forget how to breathe.

Fuck. This isn’t good.

“Hey,” Mingyu says lowly. “Can you stop moving?”

“Sorry,” Wonwoo says, but he doesn’t sound very sorry. “Just trying to get comfortable.” With that, he essentially grinds down on Mingyu, trying to get - _comfortable? -_ and Mingyu’s mind goes blank, because _the game, the stupid game, and fuck - oh fuck._ This isn’t good. Mingyu’s glad he’s wearing jeans, and not something loose, because this could turn very embarrassing very fast. 

“Wonwoo-hy-hyung,” Mingyu stutters as Wonwoo shifts again. “Stop it.” He keeps his voice quiet, by Wonwoo’s ears, so the others don’t hear. Wonwoo must hear the tremble in his voice, because he shifts again, and Mingyu - oh fuck, Mingyu can feel things getting uncomfortably tight down there.

He prays to whatever Gods and Goddesses that Wonwoo can’t feel it.

The Heavens must be against him, because instead, they end up on a bumpy road, and now Wonwoo can’t even _control_ the ass shifting, and Mingyu’s - Mingyu face feels hot, and he’s sure he’s turning red, because _the situation is getting out of control._ Wonwoo finally  notices the extent… of the issue, and he murmurs, “Sorry,” and it seems to be for real. He tries his best to stay still, but the road is bumpy and Mingyu squeezes his eyes shut and leans his head back.

Fuck his life. Fuck. He is semi-hard in the backseat of a cab with his platonic best friend Wonwoo sitting on his lap. Mingyu wants nothing more than to disappear.

When they finally arrive home, everyone else tumbles out of the cab except Wonwoo and Mingyu. Mingyu’s face feels like a hot spring, and his heartbeat is spiralling out of control. Wonwoo glances back at him, and they meet eyes for the first time since they entered the cab.

“I’m… uh…” Wonwoo runs a hand through his hair. “Should I get up?”

Mingyu’s mouth twists. “I just need… I just need a moment,” he breathes.

“I’m sorry.” Wonwoo’s playing with the ends of his sleeves now. “I didn’t think… it just…”

“It’s fine,” Mingyu grits out.

Seungcheol pops his head in. “Hello? Earth to Wonwoo and Mingyu? You both just going to sit there?”

Their leader is staring them down, trying to decipher what the hell is going on, and Mingyu knows he can’t just keep sitting there. He figures he can take his chance. He’s wearing jeans so it’s not too noticeable, and it’s starting to subside. His hands are still wrapped around Wonwoo’s waist.

“C’mon,” Mingyu says, gently tugging at Wonwoo. “Get up.”

Wonwoo obeys, and they manage to make it into the house without anyone noticing, probably because Wonwoo stands in front of Mingyu the entire time. The moment they get inside, Mingyu kicks off his shoes and heads upstairs.

He’s making a beeline for the bedroom so he can sufficiently die in peace, but he hears footsteps behind him and groans inwardly.

When they reach his bedroom, Mingyu turns around and crosses his arms. “What are you following me for?”

Wonwoo stares at him, looking guilty and wide-eyed, and Mingyu can’t bear it, because Wonwoo makes him _soft._ How can he stay mad? Besides, it wasn’t like Mingyu hadn’t agreed to this… stupid, dumb challenge. Still, it was in the car, and if someone had found out, Mingyu would have thrown himself into the abyss. His face reddens at the thought. 

Wonwoo shifts on his feet. "Look. Uh. I didn't mean to..." He trails off, like he can't bear to speak. 

Mingyu’s heart is still hammering in his ears. “Won,” he says, quieter now. “What are we doing?”

Wonwoo looks like a deer caught in headlights. He’s tugging on his sleeves insistently now, a nervous habit. “I don’t know. It was nothing.” He looks away. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a pause. Mingyu hates seeing Wonwoo so vulnerable. He doesn’t want Wonwoo to feel bad, because he _gets_ it. They were doing something dumb, and it went a little too far, and it’s not like Wonwoo wanted him to possibly get humiliated in public. Mingyu knows that, and when he stares into Wonwoo’s timid gaze, he can’t tell him off. He just can’t.

Logically, Mingyu should just forgive him and move on from the game. Then their friendship can peacefully resume.

But there’s another part of Mingyu that doesn’t _want_ this to stop. This shy, buried part, a part Mingyu wants desperately to ignore.  But it’s this part that controls why he does what he does next.

Mingyu places his hand under Wonwoo’s chin, tilting his head up. “Don’t be sorry,” Mingyu says, hands sweating and heart pulsating. There's a heated silence. “Just remember, you get what you give.”

It’s ominous.  Wonwoo’s eyes widen a fraction.

A long pause.

Wonwoo swallows, and says hoarsely, “Game is on?”

And Mingyu already knows he’s going to regret this for the rest of his life, but he can’t stop himself. He nods. “Game is on.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yea, so basically this entire chapter is Wonwoo being teased under the restaurant table by Mingyu because... that's just VERY hot (OK I SORTA SELF-INDULGED), and I kind of got carried away. Warning: A BIT OF ANGST HAS APPEARED THOUGH 
> 
> Hope u enjoy <3

It’s been five days and Mingyu knows Wonwoo is waiting for him to make a move.

They’ll be curled up on the couch, watching performance re-runs, and Wonwoo’s eyes will flick over to his. Anticipatory. The heat palpable. Mingyu will turn his head away, hand twitching, before settling. It never feels quite right. Maybe it’s because he wants to catch Wonwoo off-guard, or maybe it’s because he’s worried he’s going to do damage neither of them can repair.

Ever since they joined Seventeen, Wonwoo has been a constant in his life. Mingyu knows things about Wonwoo that he never thought he’d know about… well, _anybody._

He knows the more appreciative things, like how Wonwoo’s nose scrunches cutely when he laughs, to how he wears oversized sweaters because he’s always cold. But he also knows the vulnerable things. The intimate things Wonwoo’s told him in the dark, things that are an unspoken secret.

Like how he doesn’t know how to express himself, because his parents raised him with distance held at arm’s-length. Like how he’s never felt like he belonged anywhere until he joined Seventeen. Like how sometimes he can’t smile on camera no matter how much he tries to force it.

Wonwoo’s special. Mingyu can’t bear to ruin this, but he’s already halfway into this mess. So he waits, and it keeps Wonwoo on edge, and maybe that’s _also_ a part of why Mingyu prolongs this. To have Wonwoo’s mind thinking of him, his eyes _looking_ at him.

But admitting that - admitting that any of this is more arousing than he’d like it to be - makes Mingyu want to toss himself off the highest building in Seoul.

Platonic is Mingyu’s new favorite word.

“I want Kimchi soup,” Mingyu decides.

“Okay. Congratulations.” Wonwoo’s voice is dry, face buried in his own menu.

There’s four of them seated in one of the cornerstone restaurants by their house. Seungcheol and Jeonghan are on one side, and Wonwoo’s seated next to Mingyu. Mingyu makes a noise in retaliation to Wonwoo’s tone, and takes the opportunity to look at him again.

Why does Wonwoo look so… _damn good?_

Wonwoo always looks handsome. He’s got that perfect face symmetry, dark eyes, kitty cute smile. But today he’s got the top two buttons of his shirt undone, his hair is still damp from an evening shower, and Mingyu’s not sure how to deal with this. Wonwoo looks so smoky and delicious, that Mingyu thinks, _all I want to order is Wonwoo._

He immediately rebukes himself for thinking such an embarrassing, absurd, _unplatonic_ thing.

“Can you stop staring?” Wonwoo mutters. “You have that dumb look on your face.”

Mingyu averts his gaze. “Dumb?”

"Yeah. Although, I guess you _always_ have a dumb look on your face.” Wonwoo smiles. “Brain and visual perfectly aligned.”

Mingyu pouts. “You’re so mean, hyung.” He takes the banter as an opportunity to calm his beating heart. “I drink fine wine. That’s very intellectual.”

Even Seungcheol snorts at that. “Oh, c’mon Mingyu, you only started that because Minghao was doing it and it looked cool.”

Wonwoo snickers under his breath.

Mingyu frowns. “That’s not true! I’m a man of my own ambitions.”

Jeonghan distracts them before it escalates into warzone banter. “Yukgaejang looks good too.”

“Yeah, I might get that,” Wonwoo says.

They start to discuss menu options again, save for Mingyu who suddenly has a ridiculous idea. _The game._ He doesn’t know why the thought pops in his head, but once it’s there, he can’t get it out.

Wonwoo looks so damn good today. He can pay him back for the _dumb_ comment, no matter how innocently it was said. And… Mingyu’s eyes slide over to where Jeonghan and Seungcheol are talking about the drinks menu. Two of the most perceptive hyungs are sitting there. It would be so risky to try something.

The risk factor makes Mingyu’s heart race infinitely harder. He didn’t like it back in the cab, when he was the one under the spotlight, but the thought of doing it to Wonwoo, who’s always so composed… Mingyu’s stomach burns low with arousal. Damn. He didn’t know he had this kink.

Platonic kink. Even his own head, the word platonic is starting to sound mocking. _Who are you even kidding, Mingyu?_

“What are you going to order, Wonwoo- _hyung?_ ” Mingyu keeps his tone light, and let’s his hand slide onto Wonwoo’s thigh.

He feels Wonwoo’s thigh tense under his touch. Wonwoo doesn’t look at him though, ever so composed. “Still deciding,” Wonwoo says.

“Why don’t you get this?” Seungcheol points to a picture of grilled squid.

“Very funny.”

Mingyu inches his hands up Wonwoo’s thigh, caressing it. When he looks over, Wonwoo’s face is the same, save for the barely perceptible bite of his lower lip. There’s a hint of anticipation there too. Wonwoo’s prepared for whatever Mingyu is going to do. But that’s now how Mingyu wants to play this game.

So he keeps his hand on Wonwoo’s thigh, but doesn’t do anything more. It takes a few minutes, but by the time they’re ready to order, Wonwoo’s relaxed, distracted by the thought of food.

The waitress comes by, asks them for their order. Jeonghan orders first, then Seungcheol. Mingyu opens his mouth next, relays his order with his brain only half-there. It’s short-circuited, zeroed in on what he’s about to do. Wonwoo’s just sitting there, _so unaware,_ and Mingyu’s ears are ringing. He’s still on the precipice of deciding to go through with it.

It’s Wonwoo’s turn. Mingyu doesn’t have time to make a decision. So he just _does it._ He acts without thinking.

Wonwoo has a barely there, just-to-be-polite smile on his face. “I’ll also have Yukgae-” Mingyu’s hand goes from his thigh and wraps around Wonwoo’s clothed crotch, squeezing, tentative.

Wonwoo chokes on his own words, stopping abruptly. His eyes shoot to Mingyu immediately, and Mingyu has _never_ seen Wonwoo flush so quickly.

Mingyu’s hand feels clammy around Wonwoo’s dick. It’s so _strange_ to touch him there. Mingyu’s a naturally touchy person, but this is a whole new experience. He almost forgets that it’s sensual, and instead finds his fingers exploring - the best he can through the constricted material of pants. This is a part of _Wonwoo,_ and it’s more fascinating than anything else.

Wonwoo’s cheeks are warm, sweating

Seungcheol and Jeonghan are both staring at him in confusion. The waitress is looking at him too, brows knit. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” she says.

“I’ll have the - uh, the-” Wonwoo looks like he’s going to start panicking. Like he can’t remember his order, not with Mingyu’s hand touching him so fervently under the table. Mingyu watches as Wonwoo closes his eyes, trying to gather himself.

He tries again. “Yukga-” He stutters as Mingyu squeezes harder, and settles into an up-and-down motion, garnering friction. Wonwoo looks like he might die on the spot, and everyone at the table is staring at him.

Mingyu takes pity. “Didn’t you say you wanted Yukgaejang too, hyung?”

Wonwoo breathes in silently. “Yes.” Mingyu feels Wonwoo’s thigh jerk under the table, and their eyes meet.  Wonwoo swallows, and Mingyu can see his Adam’s apple, faintly, against the curve of his neck. His eyes are darker than usual.  

He looks breathless and _beautiful._ Mingyu can’t bear to break the gaze.

The moment the waitress goes away, Seungcheol pounces on Wonwoo. “What the hell was that?”

“I - it was nothing,” Wonwoo mutters. Mingyu teasingly presses harder, as if it say, _so this is nothing?_ He watches as Wonwoo grits his teeth. Mingyu has never seen experienced anything hotter.

“Wonwoo,” Jeonghan asks, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Wonwoo snaps out. “I’m _fine_ .” His voice goes high on the last note of the word _fine._ Mingyu’s surprised to find Wonwoo growing hard under his hand. So this is turning him on, too.

Mingyu supposes that’s something to be expected, but it still makes him wonder. Why did Wonwoo start this game in the first place? Mingyu’s own face feels warmer than usual. He can’t believe he’s doing this. Sitting in a restaurant, stroking Wonwoo’s dick under the table. Most of all, he can’t believe he’s _enjoying it._

Wonwoo’s hard now, and Mingyu can feel him almost subconsciously lifting his hips a little to gain friction against Mingyu’s hands. It’s subtle, and Wonwoo’s probably unaware he’s doing it, but it stirs Mingyu’s arousal further. Just seeing Wonwoo, perfect, _perfect_ Wonwoo be even minorly disheveled… it’s doing things to Mingyu that he wishes it wouldn’t.

Seungcheol gets bored by Wonwoo’s refusal to answer, and launches into a story, but Jeonghan’s still looking between the two of them, a peculiar expression on his face. Mingyu can see Wonwoo struggling to keep a straight face so Jeonghan doesn’t catch on.

Mingyu’s sure it’s not easy, not when he’s stroking Wonwoo steadily now. Wonwoo’s lower lip is red and bitten, and his hands are shaking slightly.

“I think that was the funniest part,” Seungcheol says. “But then again, Jun isn’t a big gamer, so I guess that’s why he was so bad.”

“Hmm,” Jeonghan says. “Wonwoo’s the best one out of us all. What game are you playing now days, anyway?”

The question is direct, _too_ direct, and Mingyu has a terrible feeling that Jeonghan is on to them. The hyung isn’t someone to leave things like this alone until he has his answer. Part of Mingyu thinks he should remove his hand, let Wonwoo breathe, but Wonwoo’s so hard that Mingyu thinks it wouldn’t change anything either way.

“Haven’t had- uh, much time,” Wonwoo mumbles. “Been focusing on practicing.”

“Right.” Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “C’mon, no matter how busy you are, you always find time to squeeze in for gaming.”

Wonwoo doesn’t even bother replying, seemingly entirely concentrated on not giving anything away. The waitress comes by with some of their food, and Mingyu takes the opportunity while the hyungs are distracted

For a moment, he takes away his hand, and Wonwoo looks at him, eyes heavy and dark, mouth half-open, looking _oh so pretty,_ and Mingyu’s heart climbs to his throat. This is too much for him. Wonwoo is _too much._

That doesn’t stop him for reaching for Wonwoo’s zipper. Mingyu’s careful as he slowly unzips the front of Wonwoo’s jeans. The risk level is beyond comprehensible now. Mingyu hasn’t planned any of this, but his hands can’t stop themselves.

He hesitates for a moment. Wonwoo’s neck and face is flushed. He’s sweating from keeping composure. Is this _really_ okay? He gives Wonwoo a look, for permission _,_ because there’s certain things you can’t just go ahead and do, game or not.

Wonwoo nods, just barely.

Mingyu takes a deep breath.

They’re really doing this in a restaurant in front of two of their team members.

Mingyu slips his hand down, trying to maneuver through Wonwoo’s open zipper, past the waistband of his boxers. It’s all a little unfamiliar. Mingyu’s never had much experience. He’s messed around a little with girls back in high school, but once he became a trainee, there wasn’t any time for dating. His hands fumble and tighten around Wonwoo’s dick. There’s a wet, slippery feeling to it, and it takes Mingyu a moment to realize it’s precum. And it’s a _lot._ Fuck.

Mingyu glances over at Wonwoo, who has his eyes barely open, looking dazed. His face is tinged pink, and his breathing is uneven.

“Won,” Seungcheol says. “You don’t look so good. You feeling sick?”

“No,” Wonwoo chokes out. “I’m fine.”

“Your face is red though,” Seungcheol says.

Mingyu fists his hand around, and starts stroking languidly, long and slow. Wonwoo’s biting his lower lip like it’s the only thing keeping him from making an unwanted noise.

“It’s the steam,” Wonwoo breathes out. “From the food.”

It’s a decent excuse. The bowls of food in front of them are steaming hot. Seungcheol doesn’t seem completely convinced though, eyes flitting to Wonwoo with a kind of worry that has Mingyu almost feeling guilty. _Almost._ He can’t feel guilty, not when Wonwoo’s eyelashes are fluttering, mouth parted, fists clenched under the table.

Not when his own hand feels _so right,_ stroking Wonwoo, bringing him closer to the edge. He watches the way Wonwoo stiffens, the blush spreading harder from his neck to his cheeks. The world feels like it’s just the two of them, and Mingyu is dizzy with arousal. It’s like time and space don’t exist, just Wonwoo, _just Wonwoo_ and his hand.

Jeonghan reminds them abruptly that they aren’t in their own bubble. “That good, huh?” he asks Wonwoo.

Mingyu’s mouth drops open.

Wonwoo freezes, and stammers out, “W-what?”

“The food. You look like you’re orgasming at the thought of it,” Jeonghan says, and Mingyu thinks, _he knows, he knows, he knows._ The choice of words is too particular. 

Mingyu’s never seen Wonwoo look so uncomfortable in his life. “Ah - I was - um, hungry.”

“Then start eating?” Jeonghan says inquiringly.

Right. They have food in front of their table.

“I was just waiting for it to cool off,” Wonwoo mutters, and there’s a moment of silence. Mingyu remembers what he was in the middle of doing, and returns to caressing Wonwoo’s dick. His own hand is slicked with precum now.

Wonwoo’s hand is shaking as he picks up his spoon, and Mingyu watches him struggle to keep the liquid in it steady.

Beneath his fingers, Wonwoo twitches, and Mingyu picks up speed. The friction is intense now, and even Mingyu can feel his pants tightening, eyes darkening. Wonwoo’s hips are trembling, like he’s trying so hard not to ride Mingyu’s hand, and Mingyu thinks, _fuck. Fuck. I’m not straight. There’s no way this is a straight thing._

His mind is too hazy for the thought to send panic bells.

All he can think about is Wonwoo.

“Ah-” Wonwoo makes a low, moaning sound, one that he clearly hadn’t meant to.

Jeonghan and Seungcheol stare at him.

“H-hot,” Wonwoo swallows through the word. “The food is hot.”

 _It’s a good cover,_ Mingyu thinks. His hand is still moving, having fallen into the steady rhythm, and his palm feels hot and sweaty. The world feels like it’s tilted to zero in on this moment. Wonwoo’s trembling from head to toe, and Mingyu can’t keep his eyes away, can’t _be discrete._

He’s so beautiful. He’s so beautiful, with his teeth grit, his lips red and flushed, his body attentive to Mingyu’s touch.

Mingyu’s so lost in this daze, so lost in wrecking Wonwoo, that he’s startled to feel a slender hand reach down and clench the bottom of his shirt. It takes him a second to realize it’s Wonwoo’s hand, pulling urgently. Oh. Oh, fuck. Right. He has to stop. Wonwoo can’t just _come_ in the middle of the restaurant, and spill semen in his fucking pants.

He pulls away abruptly. 

 

Mingyu can’t even imagine how Wonwoo must feel from the loss of contact. He probably feels like death. Mingyu glances over at Wonwoo, sees his hands clenched on his thighs, and thinks, _yeah, death sounds about right._ Mingyu shoots Wonwoo an apologetic look, but Wonwoo's staring at the table, suddenly resistant to eye contact. 

Time passes by slower after that.

Wonwoo’s silent, and neither of them can look at each other. Slowly, the flush on Wonwoo’s face starts to die down, and, _thankfully,_ so does the bulge in his pants. Mingyu’s glad he started this whole thing at the beginning, giving them time to regain composure.

Mingyu’s hand is sticky from precum, and he discretely uses a napkin to wipe it off. Now that he’s out of the heat of arousal, an empty, aching feeling fills his stomach and spreads throughout his body.

What did he just do? What did they just do?

He can’t look at Wonwoo. It’s a game, but it’s not a game, and Mingyu starts to feel nauseous by the thought of what he just did. This is his  _best friend._ His best fucking friend, who he just gave an under the table hand job to. There’s a sharp stinging in Mingyu’s eyes, and he blinks rapidly, because he doesn’t know why he suddenly wants to cry.

The aftermath is not sweet nor sensual. It feels like he’s done something wrong, like he’s messed with something sacred.

It makes Mingyu feel like shit.

It only gets worse toward the end. Wonwoo’s painfully quiet, and he’s the first one out the door when they’re all finished. Seungcheol follows, and Mingyu’s about to leave when he feels a hand on his chest.

Jeonghan’s staring at him.

Mingyu gulps.

“Mingyu,” Jeonghan says, voice soft. “I’m only telling you this because Wonwoo’s too shy and probably won’t even reply.”

Mingyu avoids eye contact. "What is it?"

“I don’t know what exactly you’re both doing,” Jeonghan says slowly. “And, to be clear, I don’t have a problem with _it._ ”

“Hyung,” Mingyu says. His heart’s beating out of its chest. “It’s nothing. Look, it’s nothing.”

Jeonghan shakes his head. “Have either of you even talked about what any of this is?”

There’s a long, overstretched pause. Mingyu wants to die in the gap. He finally says in a pathetically small voice, “No.”

“Unless you guys sort this out first, one of you _will_ get hurt in the process.” Jeonghan pauses. “Probably both of you.”

It’s the kind of advice Mingyu doesn’t want, because a part of him knows Jeonghan is right. He knows that both of them, himself and Wonwoo, have a _lot of feelings_ (even if Wonwoo hides his) and neither of them can just _do this_ without consequences. The last thing Mingyu ever wants is to hurt Wonwoo, but Mingyu’s feelings feel like a knot under this skin, something that won’t let him breathe.

This. The sensuality, the teasing. It feels absurd and strange, but it’s a game. It’s just a game.

Mingyu’s feelings aren’t a game, and they coil around his throat and form a lump. He can’t talk around the lump, afraid that he’ll cry. The thought of _liking Wonwoo -_ no - because if there’s going to be such a thing, it’s going to be _loving Wonwoo_ \- makes him go cold inside. It’s just not possible.

It’s not something that can ever happen.

 _Loving Wonwoo_ would create more complications than Mingyu can bear to untangle.

He watches Jeonghan exit the restaurant, leaving him standing there, trying to pick up his heavy feet and follow him.

Loving Wonwoo. The words feel like stained glass in his stomach, sharp and edged with bittersweetness.

Loving Wonwoo.

He can’t do that.

Mingyu’s not brave enough. So he swallows away the jagged glass feelings down his throat, and decides to keep them out of the way. When he steps into the night air, and sees Wonwoo’s head of hair from the car window, he pushes the affection all the way down, until it’s buried like the night sky buries the sun.

There’s nothing there to feel.

If he tries hard enough, Mingyu can convince himself of that much.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEAH. SO. IDK.  
> as a note, the power dynamics between Wonwoo and Mingyu tend to switch around in this fic, so I hope that doesn't bother anyone too much. also, this chapter is significantly more smutty than the previous two!!! you have been warned!!!
> 
> enjoy <3

Mingyu expects the awkwardness to last, but the next day, Wonwoo’s back to being normal - quiet, snarky, and in Mingyu’s corner.  
  
He spends the day tossing a wadded up ball of lyrics at Mingyu’s face. “Cook for me,” he demands.  
  
Mingyu’s mouth quirks, just barely. “I’m not your servant.”  
  
A pause.  
  
Another wad of paper is thrown at Mingyu’s face. “I’m starving. Do you want your hyung to starve?”  
  
It’s their normal dynamic, easy, effortless, tinged with teasing. It almost makes Mingyu wonder if he imagined the entire restaurant debacle. The words Jeonghan said to him ring in his ears- _one of you will get hurt. probably both_ \- but the warning feels faraway. Mingyu may have stroked his best friend’s dick under the table, but they’re back to normal, aren’t they?  
  
The game isn’t ruining anything.  
  
There’s something heavy in Mingyu’s chest, a little sound of protest, but he ignores it.  
  
“Fine, if it’ll stop your whining.” Mingyu finally relents, putting away his phone and standing up. Wonwoo cheers from where he’s seated on the couch.  
  
It’s only after, when Wonwoo’s curled up on the couch, eating the kimchi Mingyu made him, that Mingyu’s chest pools with ice cold dread. Wonwoo’s in his fluffy yellow sweater, round glasses propped on his nose, devouring the food, and Mingyu thinks: I would do anything for him. The thought comes fast, maneuvering effortlessly past Mingyu’s carefully arranged denial.  
  
Mingyu blinks. _I would do anything for Wonwoo._ There it is again. It isn’t the first time he’s had the thought, but after all of their sexual ministrations, it sends his mind into overdrive.  
  
His heart does a tiny, violin quiver.  
  
It was easy before. Mingyu’s fondness for Wonwoo has always stretched past the earth, past the sun, past the Milky Way galaxy, all the way to the ends of the universe. But in his star-speckled Wonwoo universe, Wonwoo has only ever been his best friend.  
  
But now… ever since the game...  
  
If the person he loves the most is the same person he's sexually attracted to,then what is there left to think about?  
  
Anybody else, Mingyu’s sure, would say, _you’re in love, Mingyu. It’s plain as day_.

Mingyu refuses to think that way, ignores the way his heart throbs in his chest. He ignores Wonwoo’s curious “where are you going?” as he storms his way to the bathroom to clear his head.  
  
There’s love and then there’s _love_ and Mingyu’s never wanted to slip into the latter.   
  
He’s never wanted to, because it’s something he knows he can never have. 

* * *

Wonwoo is a multi-dimensional person, and even though Mingyu’s known him for years, it always catches him a little bit off guard.  
  
Off-stage, Wonwoo’s a dork. He’s quiet, silly, and a bundle of cuteness. Mingyu loves that version of Wonwoo, because it’s the realest version he knows.   
  
But on stage, Wonwoo is something else entirely. He’s breathlessly magnetic, like he’s pulling the entire ocean with just his eyes, and Mingyu’s heart along with it.   
  
He embodies sexiness. Exudes confidence. Dresses himself with sharp eyes and a cold, sensual smile. Mingyu doesn’t blame the way the fans melt under his deep voice and effortless charisma. It’s something Mingyu still struggles to come to terms with - to come to terms with the fact that his dorky fluffy Wonwoo is also this Wonwoo.   
  
That’s why he can’t listen to Jeonghan’s warning, not when Wonwoo’s got him trapped in the bathroom stall after a concert.   
  
They’re both sweat-soaked from being on stage, hair styled, lips glossed, make up on. Wonwoo looks painfully attractive, staring at him under heavy eyelids. Those dark eyes observe Mingyu like he’s the only thing that matters.   
  
The game is still on. Of course it is.   
  
Mingyu’s head echoes with Jeonghan’s words, _one of you is going to get hurt_ , but Jeonghan never spoke to Wonwoo about it, and how is Mingyu supposed to resist… resist _this_? How is he supposed to push Wonwoo away, and say, _hey but… what about our feelings?_   
  
Wonwoo’s terrible at expressing feelings. If Mingyu brings it up, he’ll just shut this whole thing down.   
  
Mingyu doesn’t want it to shut down, not when Wonwoo’s looking at him like _that._ Like Mingyu’s the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.   
  
“Mingyu,” Wonwoo says quietly, voice low. His hand is on Mingyu’s shoulder, but close to Mingyu’s neck, and there’s a heavy heat between them. “I was thinking for a long time,” he says. “About how I could one-up you for the restaurant.”       
  
Mingyu breath hitches at the words. Still, he manages a wry, teasing grin. “I made you into a mess, didn’t I?”   
  
“You did,” Wonwoo admits, breath ghosting across Mingyu. They’re way too close to each other. Wonwoo’s head is tilted up, hair slicked with sweat, and god, Mingyu adores that. He loves being taller than Wonwoo, loves the way his eyes look up at him, full lashes and pouty mouth.   
  
It’s Wonwoo’s mouth that Mingyu’s always had a hard time with. He’s never seen someone with such a full lower lip. It makes Mingyu want to kiss him silly, but Wonwoo’s hand goes up beside the wall next to Mingyu’s head, and it reminds Mingyu that he’s not in charge tonight.   
  
Wonwoo gets to do what he wants. That’s how the game works. Somehow, Mingyu doesn’t mind too much.   
  
Wonwoo’s eyes rake over him.   
  
Despite his disheveled hair and sweaty sheen, Mingyu knows he looks radiant. They always put their best selves forward for the stage.  Today, it’s more problematic than anything, as all it seems to do is deepen the electricity between him and Wonwoo. Electricity that’s always been sparking hot to begin with. Wonwoo hums under his breath, hand on Mingyu’s chest, fingers splayed, and it’s strangely possessive .   
  
Mingyu thinks about how him and Minghao had a close choreography piece on stage today, faces inches away from each other, and Mingyu wonders, _did it make Wonwoo... jealous? Wonder if that’s why he’s being like this_. It’s an absurd thought, probably far from the truth, but the fantasy hits Mingyu hard. He groans inwardly, and finds his mouth moving on his own accord.   
  
“Minghao looked good tonight.”   
  
Wonwoo’s smile fades, and his eyes darken. “Ming- _hao_? Are you kidding me right now?” His hands tighten around the cloth of Mingyu’s shirt, and Mingyu thinks, _hot. this is hot._ Mingyu’s sure his eyes are brimming with want. He’s never been good at hiding things. He’s also sure he’s got Wonwoo mad now, but he wants him mad.   
  
Wants Wonwoo to stop being so controlled, precise, and just give in. It’s Mingyu’s favorite thing to see.   
  
He gets what he wants, but Mingyu’s still surprised when he feels Wonwoo’s warm, wet mouth against his neck. Mingyu jumps at the sudden pressure. Wonwoo’s hand slides down Mingyu’s chest reassuringly, but his mouth stays on Mingyu’s neck, licking a stripe of wetness with his tongue. His lips are unbearably soft, but they move aggressively down Mingyu’s neck, to his throat.   
  
He gets a kiss on the jawline. Wonwoo’s hands are cupping his cheeks, and Wonwoo’s so close that Mingyu can see nothing but his eyes.   
  
Wonwoo’s gaze flicks down to Mingyu’s lips. Yes. _Yes_. Mingyu wants to kiss, to feel Wonwoo’s plush lips mess with his mouth. Sweat drips down Mingyu’s forehead, and he presses forward, nudging Wonwoo with his jaw.   
  
“Please,” Mingyu says.   
  
Wonwoo frowns. There’s a tentative pause. Hesitation.   
  
Mingyu waits, but finds Wonwoo’s mouth back on his neck, the pressure firm and unrelenting. It’s less kissing now, and more suckling, like Mingyu’s neck is Wonwoo’s safe haven. Heat pools in Mingyu’s stomach, and spreads throughout the rest of his body. Wonwoo’s hands are tracing his collarbones, a soft, tantalizing touch.   
  
It makes Mingyu feel weak in the knees.   
  
“Mmm,” Wonwoo says. “Tell me to stop.”   
  
Mingyu blinks, not getting it. Then Wonwoo bites softly against the tender flesh of Mingyu’s neck, and Mingyu - Mingyu fucking _whimpers_ as pleasure and pain shoots through him. The bite isn’t hard enough to leave bruising, but it pulls at the sensitive skin, leaving a red, wet mark. His face heats up in embarrassment.   
  
"Wonwoo,” he whispers, voice hoarse.   
  
“Is it okay? I want to…” Wonwoo pauses. There’s uncertainty in his eyes.   
  
It seems like Wonwoo’s asking for permission, but Mingyu doesn’t want him to hesitate. He wants Wonwoo to just do it. So he looks up through his hair, his lashes, and says, “ _Minghao_ ,” in the most challenging tone he can muster. It works. Wonwoo’s grip tightens around him, and his mouth goes back to work.   
  
Mingyu clutches onto Wonwoo’s back, trying to keep himself upright as Wonwoo’s soft lips and teeth wrap around his neck skin again.   
  
“Ah - Wonwoo-hyu-” Mingyu grits his teeth at the pull of skin.   
  
Wonwoo pauses, shifting, and sucks on the raw area. He’s _so_ good at this. Mingyu doesn’t know when he learned, or if Wonwoo just _magically knows_ , but Mingyu shudders at the hard, merciless work of Wonwoo’s mouth. It hurts so good.   
  
Wonwoo finishes with softer kisses over the aching area, leaving Mingyu’s neck wet and throbbing.   
  
When he pulls back, both of them are breathless. Mingyu feels like he’s living in some kind of fucked up sensual nightmare. There’s a moment of silence. Wonwoo’s staring at Mingyu’s neck, can’t seem to tear his eyes away.

Mingyu’s pretty sure Wonwoo just gave him a hickey.

Finally, Wonwoo murmurs, “Don’t say that again, okay? Mentioning Minghao when we’re like this.”  
  
Mingyu just stares, too afraid to make his mouth move. His eyes draw downwards where there’s an obvious tent of arousal in Wonwoo’s khakis. Mingyu licks his lips, heart thumping in his chest. This will be the second time he’s going to leave Wonwoo unsatisfied, aching for release, and he doesn’t want that.

Mingyu tries to get his voice to work, but the words are stuck in his throat. Instead, he reaches out and clutches Wonwoo’s arm. Wonwoo looks over, the rim of his pupils darkened and blown.

Mingyu pushes down his nerves. “Are you done?”

Wonwoo pauses. “Yeah. That’s all.”

“So the ball’s in my court, yeah?”

His eyes shift. “I guess so. Yeah.”

“Good.”

This is the first time they’re shifting the game on the same day, in the same moment, but Mingyu _can’t_ leave it like this _._ His heart races against his chest - thrumming butterfly waves in his ribcage.

Wonwoo’s eyes widen comically as Mingyu gets on his knees, eyes level with the crotch of Wonwoo’s pants.

“Mingyu,” Wonwoo says, a nervous edge to his voice. “You don’t have to.”

“You don’t want me too?”

“I -” Wonwoo shakes his head. “Of course I do. It’s just… do _you?_ ”

“Do I want to suck your cock?” Mingyu asks.

Wonwoo’s ears turn pink, and Mingyu finds it amusing how quickly his demeanor can change. It’s cute, really. Mingyu likes the power shift, even if he’s the one on his knees. He doesn’t reply to his own rhetorical question, just caresses the bulge in Wonwoo’s pants with his hand, reaching for the zipper.

Wonwoo’s hands go to Mingyu’s shoulders instinctively. “You don’t have to,” he repeats, but his voice is thick with arousal, deeper than usual.  

Mingyu shakes his head, deflecting Wonwoo’s anxious placations. Mingyu _wants to_. He still feels bad for leaving Wonwoo hanging high and dry in the restaurant. The bathroom may not be the most romantic place to suck a dick, but they’re both alone and Wonwoo looks dangerously good. That’s all Mingyu needs.

Mingyu’s fingers are nimble as they work through the layer of khakis and boxers. When Wonwoo’s cock springs free, Mingyu can’t help but stare at it, eyes wide and unblinking. This is the first time he’s actually _seeing it,_ and something in Mingyu’s heart trembles. It’s just a dick - a nice, pretty dick, because Wonwoo wouldn’t have anything less than that - but it’s _Wonwoo’s._ For some reason, that makes Mingyu’s insides curl.

Wonwoo’s such a private person. To see such an intimate part of him… for Wonwoo to _let_ him. Mingyu’s eyes flick up to Wonwoo briefly. Wonwoo’s not looking at him, eyes trained determinedly on the wall behind Mingyu.

Mingyu doesn’t get it. He doesn't get why Wonwoo's trusting him with this. 

It doesn’t stop him from wrapping his lips around the slick head, and giving a tentative suck. He can immediately tell it’s a sensitive area from the way Wonwoo’s jaw clenches. His hands tighten on Mingyu’s shoulders.

Mingyu tries again, swirling his tongue around the head, and he gets the same reactions - hands digging into his shoulders, eyes going to the ceiling. Wonwoo’s already got that pinkish flush he had from the restaurant, face a combination of embarrassment and pleasure

Mingyu’s never sucked a cock, so he’s pretty happy with the fast reaction. It’s exploratory and new on his part, and he’s honestly a bit anxious. That’s probably why he stays hesitant and hovers by the end, tongue and mouth lapping tentative circles around the sensitive glans. It causes Wonwoo to squeeze his eyes shut, twisting his lower body slightly.

“Ming- _yu,_ ” he says. His voice has a pleading tinge to it, and Mingyu’s heart-rate doubles in a matter of seconds.

He briefly removes his mouth, eyes glistening. “What?”

Wonwoo just looks at him, blush high on his cheekbones. “Nothing. Just." He turns his heads away. "Nothing.”

Mingyu smirks, and reaches again for the head, and _okay._ He gets it. He’s teasing. And _maybe_ Mingyu likes it just a little, likes the way Wonwoo’s biting his lower lip hard, tremor running through his spine. He runs three deliberate circles around the head again, letting his finger stroke gently down the underside of the shaft.

Wonwoo twitches, both his body _and_ his cock, and Mingyu’s belly hums in arousal.

“Do you want something?” Mingyu asks, the question intentful. His mouth returns around Wonwoo’s head, and Mingyu can taste precum, wet and slippery. His tongue deftly twists around, and Wonwoo’s hands are almost painful on Mingyu’s shoulders.

“ _Please,_ ” Wonwoo says. His voice is high. “You know what.”

“Say it.”

Wonwoo looks like he’s going to refuse. “I’m not - “ He pauses, groans as Mingyu teases the head again. “Okay. Okay! Just.” He looks embarrassed, eyes refusing to make contact. “Go all the way.”

“All the way?” Mingyu questions innocently.

When he doesn’t get an answer, Mingyu continues to stroke and lick at an ungodly slow pace. Pleasurable, intense, but unbearable.

Wonwoo is writhing on his feet. “Please,” he finally gasps out. “Your mouth, all the way around my cock. Fuck. Stop _teasing._ ”

It’s quite possibly the hottest sentence Wonwoo’s ever said, and Mingyu allows himself a moment to grin before he wraps his mouth all the way around, going past the head and wrapping almost three-quarters of the way up. He’s pretty sure he can’t take anymore, doesn’t really want to _try,_ so he starts sucking long and hard.

Wonwoo’s hips jerk at the pressure, and one slender hand reaches to tangle into Mingyu’s hair.

Mingyu’s sure he looks ridiculous. He's on his knees, lips wrapped tightly around Wonwoo’s cock, head bobbing. But one look up at Wonwoo, the way his head is thrown back, mouth parted, eyes clenched shut, and it’s worth it. It’s _so_ worth it.  

Wonwoo’s breathing is harsh and uneven, fingers curling tighter around Mingyu’s hair. It’s starting to border painful, but Mingyu doesn’t mind. He keeps sucking, hand twisting at the base and tightening on the upstroke. After a few minutes of constant pressure, he can tell that Wonwoo's starting to get close.

Mingyu removes his mouth for a brief moment, breathless, jaw aching.

“You good?” Mingyu says, and just stops himself from saying  _you good, baby?_ Even in his daze of arousal, he knows he can’t say that. Can’t call Wonwoo _baby,_ not when - not when they aren’t like that. It hurts a little, but Mingyu pushes the feeling away immediately. This isn’t the time.

“Oh - god. So _good._ ” Wonwoo’s voice is strained, wrecked. “Keep going.” He nudges forward, cock brushing Mingyu’s lips, and _god. God._ He's so desperate. Mingyu’s mind short circuits. His hands settle around Wonwoo’s hips, and he takes him in his mouth again. This time he doesn’t stop to say anything, keeps his mouth wrapped around, pressure firm and tireless.

Wonwoo’s hands are quivering, and he lets out a soft suppressed whine.

After a good minute, Mingyu keeping the steady pace, Wonwoo stutters out, “Oh - I’m - I’m almost there. _Mingyu_.” His eyes are dark, cheeks flushed, but panic quickly overtakes his face. His hand tugs - hard - at Mingyu’s hair. “Fuck. I’m going to - you should - “

He’s trying to get the sentiment across, but his words come out stilted, laced with pleasure. Mingyu thinks, _it’s okay, it’s okay, I don’t mind taking it in my mouth._ He’s not sure why he doesn’t mind, but he just _doesn’t._ But Wonwoo’s so close, and Mingyu doesn’t want to remove his mouth to say as much.

Instead, he makes deliberate eye contact, hoping Wonwoo gets the message. He’s not sure it makes a difference, because he’s pretty sure Wonwoo _can’t_ hold back anymore. A shudder ripples through his body, and Wonwoo moans out an uncharacteristically loud “ _o-oh god_ ” that vibrates through the bathroom walls.

Before Mingyu can even process it, Wonwoo comes hard into his mouth, and the entire room feels like it’s spinning. Mingyu screws his face as he adjusts to the feeling - it tastes a bit salty, mostly likenothing _,_ and the texture is off-putting as it goes down his throat. But then he looks up at Wonwoo, who looks like he’s in a pleasure-filled haze, stumbling on his own feet, and suddenly every drop Mingyu swallows feels worth it. 

They're both in a daze after it's over, Wonwoo still catching his breath, Mingyu wiping the corner of his mouth.

It takes a moment for them to get themselves back together. Mingyu’s jaw aches, but the feeling is a pleasant reminder of what he just did, a sore ecstasy. He tentatively touches his neck with his hand, remembers Wonwoo’s soft, biting kisses.

As the stunned stupor slowly melts away, a quiet, cautious silence fills the air.

Wonwoo releases a shaky, weathered breath. He struggles to meet Mingyu’s eyes. “That was… that was really good.” He pauses, licking his lips nervously. This time it's purely an anxious habit. “Thank you.”

Mingyu can feel the awkwardness setting in. He offers a half-grin. “It was fun,” he says. What he really wants to do is take Wonwoo by the shoulders, shake him, and scream, _what are we? Are we fuck buddies? Best friends with benefits? Do you have any feelings for me at all? Is this all really just a game for you?_

He tries to read Wonwoo’s face, but he’s got a closed-off expression, the kind he gets when he’s uncomfortable with his own vulnerability.

Mingyu tries not to care, but the hurt spills into his body and makes him ache. They’re so good at this - _this sexual game -_ hands reaching and working with instinctual chemistry. They’re so good at being friends, banter light and easy, love caring and honest. But the line that crosses to _relationship_ is like a bitter, tension-filled warzone.

Mingyu doesn’t think he can step over without being wounded. He doesn’t think Wonwoo can either.

“I guess I should go.” Wonwoo laughs, hands fumbling with each other. Another nervous habit. “The others are probably wondering where we are.”

Right. 

Mingyu shrugs, tries to look unaffected. “Yeah. You go first, uh - so it’s not so suspicious. I’ll come out after.”

Wonwoo nods, bites his lip. He looks like he wants to say something more, and for a moment, Mingyu thinks he’s going to. There’s a temporary openness in his expression, a tenderness, and Mingyu thinks, _please, tell me what the fuck is going on._ But it smoothes over into blankness just as quickly, and Mingyu wonders if he imagined the whole thing.  

The door swings shut behind him as Wonwoo leaves, and Mingyu makes a noise of pure, unadulterated confusion.

When he steps out of the bathroom and sees himself in the mirror, his breath leaves him.  
  
He looks disheveled, pupils blown, cheeks flushed. He looks like a mess.   
  
But mostly, Mingyu’s eyes are drawn to the red suction mark on his neck. The hickey. Mingyu touches the area tentatively, thinks about how Wonwoo left his mark there, and Mingyu’s eyes suddenly feel extremely wet. He likes this. He likes this _so much -_ to be able to be intimate with Wonwoo in a way nobody else in the group is.

But it’s too much. He doesn’t know how to deal with the giant question mark suffocating him. The _is there any love in this?_ hangs unresolved and untouched. 

Mingyu presses his hand against his mouth, trying to control his breathing.  
  
He has a fucking hickey. _Wonwoo-hyung_ gave him the hickey.

He just blew his best friend in the bathroom stall, and swallowed his cum. 

His best friend whom he is (definitely not) in love with.   
  
Mingyu feels like his life is falling apart, but he has no idea what to do about it, and he can't let go of the fleeting feeling that this is all going to end up destroying him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter has NO SMUT!!!! (SHOCKINGLY). However, that's mostly because the next chapter will be mega smutty, so I felt there needed to be a break with some communication/feelings, ya know?
> 
> Also, I wanted to say thank you so much for your lovely comments!! I read and appreciate all of them!!! they mean a lot.
> 
> anyway, enjoy <3

“You’re drinking an awful lot today,” Minghao comments.  
  
Mingyu just shrugs, and doubles down on his glass of wine. It’s Sunday evening, two days after the concert, two days after the bathroom incident, and Mingyu needs to get wasted. He’s been wearing an ugly mint green scarf, one that Minghao is hardcore judging by the expression on his face.  
  
He thankfully doesn’t speak up about his disdain.  
  
To be truthful, Mingyu’s also having a hard time looking Minghao in the eye after using him as bait for Wonwoo. He’s probably a terrible friend.  
  
Oh, well.  
  
That’s why Mingyu’s on his fourth glass of wine. He can’t be arsed to deal with all of these feelings sober. Fuck feelings. Mingyu screws his brows together, and fiddles with the end of the wine glass.  
  
Minghao sips on his own drink, his first of the night, eyebrow raised. “I know you Mingyu,” he says. “You only act like this when you’re upset about something.”  
  
“I’m not upset.”  
  
“And I’m not judging your ugly scarf.”  
  
The reply is dripping with sarcasm, and Mingyu shoots a glare at Minghao. Even though the room is lined by Minghao’s candles, smelling sweetly of vanilla, with a cool summer breeze from the open window, Mingyu feels anything but comforted.

He stares into the white wine in his glass. He’s kind of drunk. Just a little bit.

“I have a problem,” Mingyu says gravely.  
  
“Guessed that,” Minghao says. He’s sitting cross-legged, and scratches his knee. “Do you want to talk about it?”  
  
There’s a long silence. Mingyu reaches for the wine bottle, hands clammy, and pours himself another glass.  
  
Finally he speaks. “I may or may not be… doing things with Wonwoo-hyung.” There. He’s said it. It’s the first time he’s spoken it aloud to someone, and the words sit heavy on his tongue.  
  
Minghao blinks up at him. “Wait… what? What do you mean by things?”  
  
Mingyu flails his arms, and yeah, he’s probably a bit drunker than he planned. " _Things,_ Minghao!  _Bad_ things!” His voice comes out high-pitched, and Minghao shushes him. There’s some shuffling as Minghao gets up to close the bedroom door. Re-adjusting, he sits down, holding a candle ominously in front of his face.  
  
The light from the candle flickers. “Tell Minghao everything.”  
  
“Now you’re just being creepy.”

Minghao rolls his eyes. “Just spit it out, Mingyu. It can’t be that bad.”

_It really can be, though._

Mingyu’s blood is warm with alcohol. Everything feels loopy. “Wonwoo. I - oh, god. I just -” Mingyu pauses. His brain is fuzzy, doused in wine, and all he can remember is Wonwoo’s mouth against his neck. Those dark eyes. His favorite eyes. “We did stuff Minghao. Things that you aren’t supposed to do with your best friend.”

Minghao is silent. He sets the candle down. “I always had my suspicions, but I didn’t expect it to happen so soon.”  
  
A pause. “Wait -  _suspicions_?”  
  
“Of course. You and Wonwoo-hyung have been joined by the hip since predebut, and I, mean… dating was never that far-fetched.”

“I - wait, no. That’s not it. We’re not together. ”

Minghao arches a perfect brow. “Then what are you?”  
  
_That’s the problem, isn’t it?_ Mingyu thinks this bitterly, swirling the remaining wine in his glass. He doesn’t know what they are. He has no idea what Wonwoo’s feeling. What if this  _is_ just a sexual game for him? Is any of it… is any part of him in love with Mingyu at all?  
  
“I don’t know how to explain this,” Mingyu says. “Wonwoo and I are… we’re doing things.” He coughs into his hand. “Sexual things. But we haven’t talked about it.”  
  
“So you’re fucking,” Minghao clarifies.  
  
Mingyu chokes. “No!”  
  
“I’m confused.”  
  
“We’re not fucking. We haven’t - no, we haven’t gone that far yet.”

Mingyu thinks  _maybe, just maybe,_ blowing Wonwoo might qualify under some umbrella of  _fucking,_ but he really doesn’t want to tell Minghao he was on his knees, sucking Wonwoo’s cock. That’s just way too personal.

Minghao tilts his head, waiting.

Mingyu swallows, and tugs at the scarf around his neck. “I’m wearing this ugly scarf for a reason.”  
  
It’s Minghao’s turn to gape. “Wonwoo-hyung gave you a _hickey_? ”  
  
Mingyu’s face goes warm. “Yes. And - and other stuff. We’ve messed around.”    
  
“But - so, wait, you just started doing this stuff… without any conversation about it?” Minghao looks completely horrified by the notion.  
  
Mingyu clutches his wine glass. “Maybe.”  
  
“ _At all_?”  
  
Mingyu blinks rapidly. He doesn’t know how to respond, and his eyes feel wet from unshed tears. He wonders if the alcohol is making him over-emotional or if it just hurts that bad. Minghao is still staring at him, concern etched on his face, and Mingyu feels the first tears slipping out before he can control them.

He finds himself apologizing. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying, I didn’t - fuck.” Mingyu swipes at his eyes.

Minghao’s gaze softens. He reaches out and touches Mingyu's hand. “Do you have feelings for him?”  
  
The question hangs in the air, and Mingyu’s throat tightens.  
  
Because how can he deny it?

Wonwoo’s his moon, his shining constant in the sky. He’s absolutely brilliant and Mingyu will do anything for him. It’s an unrequited love story written in Mingyu’s stars, was written the moment they met as trainees.

Wonwoo’s been an imprint on Mingyu’s heart for as long as Mingyu’s known him, and maybe Mingyu’s a fool to have never seen this coming.

“I think I'm in love with him.”  
  
It’s the first time he’s said it with his own mouth. Saying it hurts every part of Mingyu.

Minghao’s face draws tight, like he’d been expecting the sentiment, but not with such painful fragility. His next words are careful, like he’s afraid to hear Mingyu’s response. “And… is that a bad thing?”

It’s an easy question, a simple question, but Mingyu feels like his head is floating underwater. Like he’s submerged in the white wine he’s drunk. The tears pricking at his eyes flood and spill down his cheeks. Minghao reaches out his hand, and grasps Mingyu’s wrist, a silent comfort. Mingyu feels pathetic - completely and totally pathetic.  
  
“I can’t love him.” Mingyu’s hand quivers, and Minghao’s expression is somber. “Our friendship is everything to me, and I don’t think Wonwoo-hyung… I don’t think he feels the same way. I mean maybe he does, maybe there’s a 1% chance he does, but there’s no way I can…” Mingyu releases a breath. “I know it sounds crazy because we’re doing things with each other, but that’s - it’s different. That’s purely sexual, and… Wonwoo likes guys? It’s not like he ever talks about that stuff. And maybe this is just sexual release for him, y’know?” At this, Mingyu lets out a watery laugh, and gestures to himself. “I mean, even I can admit it - I’m damn hot, right?”

Minghao doesn’t laugh, lips pursed together. “Mingyu,” he says.

“I know! I know. I shouldn’t have gotten myself into this if I can’t control my feelings.”  
  
“That’s not what I was going to say.” Minghao shrugs, looking hesitant. “I think Wonwoo has a special place for you.”  
  
A special place.  
  
Mingyu wonders what that means. Friendship? Love? Something else entirely? Mingyu has a special place for Wonwoo too. Always has.  
  
He doesn’t say any of this.  
  
"That’s why I can’t fuck it up,” Mingyu settles for. He rubs at his eyes, hating that he’s crying over this. He reaches for the wine bottle, but Minghao pulls it close to him, shaking his head silently. Yeah, drinking away his shitty feelings probably isn’t healthy.  
  
“It’s not just that,” Mingyu finally says, reluctantly. “Even if hyung likes me back, it’s problematic. We’re idols. We can’t just - hell, we’re not even allowed to date people of the opposite sex. There’s no world that would let us be together.”  
  
A shadow crosses Minghao’s face. “The world sucks in that aspect,” he admits.  
  
Mingyu croaks out a thin laugh. “Yeah, it really fucking does.”  
  
“But aren’t you guys breaking the rules anyway? I mean, you’re not together, but I’m sure having sexcapades is frowned upon too.”

“ _Sexcapades_?”

“What else am I supposed to call your non-fucking, sexual adventures?”

It sounds even more ridiculous when Minghao puts it like that. He has a point though. Everything they’re already doing - sneaking around in the bathroom stall, under the dinner table - it’s all something they shouldn’t be doing. If either of them were caught by the media, there would be an uproar, and it wouldn’t be a pretty one.

Yet, Mingyu already knows he won’t be able to stop himself when Wonwoo looks at him like that again.  
  
It’s a lost cause.  
  
Mingyu traces the top of his empty wine glass. “It doesn’t matter,” he says. “Either way, I’m destined to be sad and alone.”

“Yeah, well you’re probably right.”

Mingyu snorts. “Thanks.”

Minghao grins owlishly, and slides over from where he’s sitting so he’s next to Mingyu. He puts a hand on Mingyu’s shoulder, and squeezes gently. “It can go differently,” he says. The words light a spark of hope in Mingyu’s chest. They deflate just as quickly at Minghao’s next words. “If you tell him how you feel, there’s possibility there.”

Mingyu swats Minghao’s hand away. “Great plan. I’ll put it on my list of  _things I’m never going to do._ ”

“Mingyu.”

“No. No - just,  _no._ I can’t do that. I already told you. I’m not putting our friendship on the line.”

“You’re really an idiot.”

Mingyu scowls. “I’m not.” He pauses, and inhales deeply, burrowing his face into the carpet. Which, in hindsight, is probably kind of gross, but Mingyu figures dying of germs is better than the heartache he’s currently enduring.

The thing is, nobody, not even close friends like Minghao, can ever understand what Wonwoo means to him. Their friendship is something special, intangible - love that sprung from taking care of each other since predebut. Making each other laugh when the other was down. Play-fighting until dawn. Hands and bodies constantly looped together in an eternal source of comfort.

A lump forms in Mingyu’s throat, and he tries to hold back fresh tears. Minghao rubs a gentle circle on his back.

It’s not something he can ever throw away.

“Want to listen to old, emo kpop songs?” Minghao finally gives up

Mingyu manages a watery smile. “Yeah. How did you know?”

Minghao rolls his eyes as if the question is absurd, and reaches for his phone.

* * *

_It’s just sharing a hotel bed. We’ve done it a million times before. There’s nothing to worry about._

That’s what Mingyu tells himself as he picks at the ends of the hotel comforter, eyeing the double bed he’s sitting on suspiciously. It’s not the first time he’s shared with Wonwoo during concert stay-overs, but it’s the first time since… since _The Big Mess_ ** _™_**  started. Mingyu doesn’t know what to expect.

Wonwoo’s in the bathroom, showering off the sweat and make up from the day.

 _It’s going to be an innocent night,_ Mingyu repeats to himself.  _We’re both too tired to do anything._

After chanting  _relax_ repeatedly in his mind, Mingyu’s mind finally ebbs into a state of calmness. All the logistics point to a straightforward platonic night-in. They’re tired from the concert, exhaustion wearing down their bones. It’s been a week since the blow job, and Wonwoo’s kept his distance. Sex doesn’t seem to be on his mind lately.

It’s not on Mingyu’s mind either. Not at all.  _(Mingyu definitely hasn’t been thinking about Wonwoo’s ass and collarbones and bedroom eyes every minute he can, definitely hasn’t)._

It’s not rational for anything to happen tonight.

His thoughts are only confirmed when Wonwoo comes out dressed in a loose white shirt, and black sweats, glasses propped on his nose.

It’s not that Wonwoo stops looking handsome in the outfit (because why would life ever give Mingyu  _that_ mercy?) but they’re not clothes anyone would use for seduction.

Anyone normal, anyway.

Mingyu forgets that Wonwoo isn’t normal.

“Hey, Mingyu?” Wonwoo is standing by the full-length hotel mirror, working through a tube of face moisturizer. “Are you a virgin?”

Mingyu chokes on his waterbottle, eyes widening. Wonwoo hasn’t budged from his position by the mirror, and appears unaffected by his scandalous question.

Mingyu must be hearing things. His dirty, dirty fantasy-addled mind is hearing things. When he sneaks a glance at Wonwoo, the boy has a blank expression, staring at himself in the mirror as he rubs on the night moisturizer. There’s no indication he’s said anything out-of-the-norm.

Mingyu decides not to answer. He  _must_ have imagined it.

There’s a moment of silence. Wonwoo turns around, fiddling with his hands. “Mingyu?”

Okay. This is a thing. He’s actually asking.

Mingyu clears his throat, and feels a blush rise on his face. His mind runs circles as embarrassment makes a home in his stomach.  “Which… kind? With girls or guys?”

It’s a pointless question, the answer is a painful  _yes_ for both, but Mingyu tries to buy himself some time.

Wonwoo looks annoyed. “Both?”

Mingyu considers lying, but Wonwoo’s staring at him with curious, sharp eyes, and Mingyu draws his gaze away. “Yeah, I’m a virgin,” he says quietly.

Wonwoo hums. “Okay. Good.” He runs a hand through his damp hair, ever-so-casual, but Mingyu doesn’t miss the faint smile on his face.

He’s not sure what  _okay, good_ is supposed to mean, but it’s better than a look of disappointment. The embarrassment uncurls a little, and Mingyu taps his fingers impatiently on his thigh, waiting for Wonwoo to reveal his own bedroom status. He gets none - Wonwoo just plays with his damp hair, trying to smooth it out with a comb so it doesn’t tangle the next morning.

“ _Well?_ ” Mingyu finally gets out.

“Well, what?”

For god’s sake. Wonwoo is the most dense person Mingyu has ever met. “Are you one?”

He receives a confused look.

Mingyu wants to throw something at him. He doesn’t, because his stomach is still doing loop-de-loops from this whole conversation. He spells it out, an undercurrent of tension in his voice: “Are you a virgin, hyung?”

It takes a minute for the lightbulb of recognition to glow on Wonwoo’s face. When it does, Wonwoo laughs, and scrunches his nose cutely. Any mild anger Mingyu has fades instantly.

“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo says. “I thought it was obvious. Of course I am.” He pauses. “I’m  _me._ ”

Mingyu’s shoulders visibly relax at the admission. Still, he eyes Wonwoo critically. “You  _do_ know that you’re gorgeous, right?”

“Thanks.” Wonwoo laughs again. “I didn’t mean my looks. I just meant… my personality.”

“Your personality is great,” Mingyu presses. He doesn’t like the touch of self-deprecation in Wonwoo’s voice.

Wonwoo shrugs, and goes to sit on the end of the bed. He gives Mingyu an intense look. “I’m not the most social person, and I was even worse back in high school. Of course I wasn’t getting laid. I haven’t even -” He pauses, licks his lips, and looks down at the bedsheets. A blush creeps onto his face. “I haven’t even had my first kiss, to be honest.”

Mingyu stares at him. Okay. He  _kind_ of gets it. If Wonwoo was even less social than he is now, than he probably spent 90% of his time holed up in his room playing video-games. Not exactly a recipe for wooing women. Or men. Mingyu's still not sure of Wonwoo's exact sexuality. 

 _Still_.

How has someone never kissed those perfect, pink, Cupid’s bow lips? Mingyu's heart flutters, and he looks away from Wonwoo’s mouth. He might have an unhealthy fascination with it.

“So what are your reasons?” Wonwoo raises an inquiring eyebrow. “You’re so…” He gestures vaguely.

“Handsome, charming and irresistible?”

“Shut up.”

“I’ve done stuff,” Mingyu admits. “I had my first kiss all the way back in middle school. And I’ve…this girl and I, right before I became a trainee- we  _did stuff._ ” He rubs his neck sheepishly. The memories are a bit foggy. “Never went all the way though.”

Wonwoo hums in understanding.

“And after that - well, I became a trainee.”

He doesn’t need to expand on the statement. It’s an unspoken understanding between the members. It’s probably one of the biggest sacrifices that comes with the Idol lifestyle. No dating. Even if the company allows it, there’s just no time, not between travelling and interviews and rehearsals. Except… Mingyu looks up at Wonwoo through his lashes.  _With you. It would be different with you._

He files away the thought. Swallows down the hurt.  _Not an option._

Wonwoo lays on his stomach, and buries his face in his arms. A moment later, he takes out his phone.

The conversation is done?

Mingyu pushes aside vague disappointment. He’s not sure what he expected, but it was something more. Oh, well.  _It's probably for the best,_ Mingyu thinks, grabbing his own phone. 

It’s quiet then. There’s the faint noise of cars on the overstretching highway as Mingyu catches up on Instagram. Wonwoo’s socks have kittens on them, and Mingyu catches him wiggling his toes randomly. It’s cute. On the ground beneath them, Mingyu’s suitcase is filed neatly in the corner, but Wonwoo’s is spread open, clothes and shirts on display. Mingyu recognizes a lot of the pieces, and smiles fondly. Wonwoo’s the type to wear the same few things over and over again.

He’s a lot like that with people too, Mingyu realizes. Has a tendency to stick closely to the same few people. It makes Mingyu feel safe.

Wonwoo’s not going anywhere.

_Unless you scare him off with your Big Gay Love._

Mingyu ignores the bitter thought.

He’s the complete opposite of Wonwoo. The extroverted social butterfly, the member who can create inside jokes with nearly everyone _._ He’s always up for trying new things - whether it be an outfit, meeting new people, or learning.

But at the end of the day, his heart still comes back to this one man - this endearing, fluffy-haired, squinty-eyed nerd.

Quietly, Mingyu takes the pillow next to him and presses it into his face. He wants to scream.

He’s such a fucking goner.

* * *

Mingyu is deep into stalking a random Idol’s Instagram when Wonwoo sits up suddenly. The movement is abrupt and awkward, and it immediately breaks Mingyu’s attention from his phone.

Wonwoo looks at him. “Do you want to have sex?” His face is red, hands clenched on his thighs. His teeth dig into his lower lip.

Mingyu just stares. And stares. And tries to process the words coming into his brain, because they sound like  _do you want to have sex_ and Mingyu doesn’t know if he can manage to form a sentence. His mind short-circuits. The proposition is so out of the blue… so random… Mingyu pauses. Except it’s not. He looks at Wonwoo’s face, and it’s like a frightened kitten. No. Of course it’s not. Wonwoo’s been sitting here, trying to quietly work up the nerve to ask. He’s probably been working up the courage the moment they paired up to room together.

Mingyu’s mouth feels dry. “I - uh - what?”

“Sex.” Wonwoo licks his lips, and  _fuck._ Fuck. Why do they look so pink and shiny?

“I - uh - what?” Mingyu repeats dumbly.

Wonwoo’s fingers curl and uncurl against his palms. “I mean, it’s my turn in the game, but I -” His eyes lower to the bedsheets. “I don’t know how to one-up that blow job, and really… I mean, I could give you  _this._ ” He pauses, and manages to meet Mingyu’s gaze. He swallows, and Mingyu follows the bob of his Adam’s apple. “I want to.”

This. _This_ being sex. Wonwoo wants to have sex with him.

Mingyu says as much. “You want to have…  _sex?_ With... me?”

Wonwoo ducks his head. “Yeah. For like, the game.”

_The game._

Mingyu’s heart drops. Sometimes he forgets how these intricate, sexual propositions are all part of a stupid game. Wonwoo wants to have sex with Mingyu, but he doesn’t want to have sex _with Mingyu._ Mingyu’s not special, or loved, or chosen. It’s a game. Mingyu breathes through his nose. This game is going to destroy him.

Wonwoo shifts where he's sitting, tense. “Mingyu?” he asks.

He sounds scared and Mingyu wants to placate him. But Mingyu’s also scared -  _terrified._ He’s terrified because he knows he shouldn’t agree, not when he’s knee-deep in unrequited love. Hell he’s  _hairline-deep,_ barely staying above water. He can’t sink any lower, not if he wants to make it out alive.

But what terrifies him the most is that he can’t say no.

Wonwoo’s staring at him with his soft mouth and damp hair and deep eyes. Mingyu’s hyper-aware of Wonwoo’s body. His skinny arms, his soft, almost milky white skin, his long, elegant torso. If they have…if they have sex - A pulse of heat shoots through Mingyu.

Mingyu’s hands shake, and he hides them under the pillow. He’d be able to touch Wonwoo  _everywhere._ Cup his ass, trace his nipples, kiss his stomach. Make him moan. Mingyu’s body tightens. It’s more than just sex. Doing this with Wonwoo… it’s a connection of closeness that Mingyu will  _never_ get with him again.

It’s hot and intimate and Mingyu  _wants._

He wants Wonwoo so badly.

“Mingyu,” Wonwoo breathes. The cars outside sound even more distant, far away, and Wonwoo’s eyes have got him hypnotized.

_Unless you guys sort this out first, one of you will get hurt in the process. Probably both of you._

_But - so, wait, you just started doing this stuff… without any conversation about it… at all?_

_If you tell him how you feel, there’s possibility there_

Mingyu closes his eyes. He smiles, because it’s Wonwoo and Mingyu’s never really stood a chance. “Yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as a heads up, I think meanie is a switch couple, but I prefer Wonwoo bottom... soooooo that's what's coming haha <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the wait on this chapter! 
> 
> First of all, thank you SO much for your lovely, encouraging comments. Each and every single one of them honestly brighten my day, so thank you for taking the time to leave them! 
> 
> It took awhile for me to fall into my writing rhythm for this chapter, so I hope it doesn't feel too fragmented since I wrote it in bits and pieces.
> 
> Anyway, it's the longest chapter yet. Enjoy <3

“Hey? I have a rule.”

“Yeah? What kind of rule?” Mingyu presses a soft, tentative kiss to Wonwoo’s neck. They’re curled up on Mingyu’s side of the bed, both still fully clothed. It’s been almost ten minutes since Mingyu made the worst decision of his life, but he’s finding it hard to take the initiative.

Wonwoo smells good though, freshly showered, and the scent is intoxicating. Mingyu nudges another wet kiss against Wonwoo’s neck, lips pressed against the elegant curve. Wonwoo shifts away, but can’t hide his smile.

He shoves Mingyu on the shoulder. “I’m _serious._ ”

Mingyu looks up briefly, and licks his lips. “What is it? You don’t want to bottom?”

Wonwoo flushes. “No. I - no. That’s not it.”

“So you _do_ want to bottom?”

“Can you listen?”

Mingyu laughs as Wonwoo smacks his arm. He’s pretty sure he’s got a dazed expression on his face. He still can’t believe they’re doing this _together_. He’s having his first time with _Wonwoo._ It feels surreal, and his fingers itch to touch him.

Wonwoo’s all angles and bones and beauty. He’s composure. And Mingyu loves tearing composure down, loves seeing Wonwoo lose that icy control he has over himself. Mingyu’s eyes trail up Wonwoo’s neck, where there’s wet, dripping moisture from Mingyu’s mouth.

Maybe he should repay him for the hickey. There’s so many things he can do, and Mingyu’s flooded with giddy arousal. They’ve got _all night._

He’s on such a potent high that he nearly misses Wonwoo’s words.

“— so, no kissing.”

“No kissing?” Mingyu eyes immediately dart to Wonwoo’s mouth. The plush swell of his lower lip, the way Wonwoo absentmindedly rolls his tongue over it. It’s been Mingyu’s source of distraction for _years._ “Why not?”

He doesn't mean to sound so distraught. 

“Because—” Wonwoo plays with the end of the pillow. “Fuck. Okay, I know it sounds cheesy, but I don’t want my first kiss to be... this _._ ” There’s a pause, and Wonwoo has a faraway expression on his face. “You know what I mean.”

_This._

Of course.

Wonwoo wants his first kiss to be special. He doesn’t want it with _Mingyu._ He probably wants it with a pretty girl, heads bent together toward a book they both like. Romantic. Lovely. Everything that this _isn’t._

Mingyu isn’t stupid. He knows that what they're doing is raw and messy, lined with confusion.

He swallows the glass shards of hurt down his throat. It isn’t fair to expect Wonwoo to see it the same way Mingyu does.

Because Mingyu sees this as colour and intimacy and light and _love._ He sees Wonwoo and everything in the world clicks into place - like Wonwoo’s the answer to the secrets of Mingyu’s universe.

_He’s not yours to have._

Mingyu reminds himself of this. Again and Again.

_He’s not yours to have._

Forcing a smile is like pulling teeth.

He ribs Wonwoo. “So you’re down to fuck, but your first kiss has to be special?” He laughs, hollow. “That’s a bit backwards.”

“Shut up.”

“But seriously? I blew you in a bathroom stall.”

“I said shut up,” Wonwoo says plainly. “Follow my rule.”

“I can do that.” Mingyu settles his hands around Wonwoo’s skinny waist, tugging him forward. He wants to make this good for Wonwoo, and if Wonwoo doesn’t want to be kissed, Mingyu won’t push it. Even if the reasons behind it make his heart flinch all the way down to his toes. 

He pulls just barely under the waistband of Wonwoo’s joggers to feel the soft jut of hip bones, and rubs his thumb over the left. “You’re so skinny,” he says.

Wonwoo eases into the touch. “Always been like this.”

“I know,” Mingyu says, fondly. He leans down, almost crouching his entire back, and presses a soft kiss at the curve of Wonwoo’s hipbone, pulled between the fabric of his joggers. His skin tastes like coconut lotion. Feels soft. He sucks at the space with his mouth.

Wonwoo jumps a bit. “Woah.”

“The no- _kiss_ rule?” Mingyu looks up through his lashes, and pins another kiss. “That’s just for your lips, yeah?”

“Yeah, I just thought -”

Mingyu pauses, and hopes his voice isn't borderline whining. “This isn't okay?" 

“It’s fine.” Wonwoo sounds slightly breathless. “I didn’t know people kissed there.”

“There’s no rules.” Mingyu hovers over the line of Wonwoo’s hip, and laps his tongue softly. “I’ll stop if you don’t like it though.”

Wonwoo doesn’t respond, but when Mingyu presses his teeth to the area, he shivers visibly. Mingyu smiles into the skin, leaves a subdued biting kiss, and releases his mouth. He straightens, back hurting from the awkward angle, and gently shoulders Wonwoo down onto the bed.

Everything feels like it’s happening in slow motion. Mingyu tries to find a comfortable position, and ends up propping his head up on his elbow, leaning horizontally on the bed so his head hovers over Wonwoo’s stomach.  

When he glances up, Wonwoo’s eyes are on the ceiling, but they break to meet Mingyu’s. The air conditioning hums underneath them, in time with the gentle summer breeze slipping in through the half-cracked window.

The eye contact feels like it goes on for an eternity. Then Wonwoo sighs, and Mingyu follows the part of his lips.

“Sex with you is really boring.”

“ _What?_ ” Mingyu flushes. “What the hell?”

“I’m almost falling asleep here.”

Mingyu gawks, heart hammering. “We haven’t even _started_ yet.”

“Then, _start_.” His voice has a teasing lilt to it, eyes dark, challenging, meeting Mingyu’s flabbergasted face with ease, and Mingyu thinks:  _okay, yeah, if that’s how you want to play it._ Hesitance leaves Mingyu’s body, and maybe Wonwoo knows him a _little_ too well. He’s pretty sure the remark was purposeful, timed to push Mingyu's buttons.

Mingyu doesn’t care.

He aggressively grips Wonwoo’s thighs, sliding his open palms over, breezing past the crotch and tangling underneath Wonwoo’s shirt. It rides up, revealing pale, smooth skin.

Wonwoo’s skin is cold, and Mingyu hands roam the soft lines of his stomach and chest. He’s hovering now, and Wonwoo’s eyes are locked on his, gaze held tightly together.

“How much do you want me to wreck you?” Mingyu asks.

Wonwoo makes an audible noise. “Fuck.” His hand reaches out, curls around Mingyu’s nape, and the touch burns into his skin.

“Wonwoo?”

“A lot.” Wonwoo swallows, looking away now, breathing heavier. “Don’t hold back.”

Mingyu doesn’t have to be told twice, doesn’t have to be told twice to reach up under the cold, smooth skin of Wonwoo’s stomach and creep his fingers to his nipples. He can’t see them, the shirt haphazardly covering Wonwoo’s upper half, but he can feel when his fingers reach the tight nub on the left.

It’s almost too easy to let it roll between his fingers.

Wonwoo shudders at the touch, and Mingyu can’t keep his eyes off him.

 _Beautiful,_ he thinks, but doesn’t voice it, because they’re fuck buddies and fuck buddies don’t call each other beautiful. The notion hurts.

Almost aggressively, Mingyu twists Wonwoo’s nipple again, and Wonwoo flinches into the bed, a sharp gasp emitting from the back of his throat.

“Sorry,” Mingyu says, because he’d done that with a slice of heated anger in his stomach, even if Wonwoo doesn’t know that.

“Don’t apologize,” Wonwoo says, voice deep, husky with arousal. “Fuck, Mingyu, just destroy me, okay?” His eyes are narrowed. “I want you to stop doubting and— _ah-“_

Mingyu stops him mid-speech, the words shooting straight to his cock. _Destroy me._ His free hand goes to Wonwoo’s hair, curling part of it into his fist, and pulling back. Wonwoo’s head jerks back just slightly, leaving his neck exposed for Mingyu’s mouth.

“Does it hurt?” Mingyu asks, gesturing toward Wonwoo’s hair clinging in his fist.

“Yeah,” Wonwoo grits out.

“Good.” Mingyu leans down and presses his mouth into the open space of Wonwoo’s neck. It’s easy to be angry, aggressive, when Wonwoo’s left him hurting and aching and empty.

When Wonwoo’s shut down any possibility of love with a quick, careless mention of the game. The energy that Mingyu’s coiled tightly behind his heart transmits into the way his teeth dig, brushing slightly at Wonwoo neck, biting.

Wonwoo groans, fists curling into the sheets, and it’s the hottest thing Mingyu’s ever witnessed. Everything about Wonwoo’s the hottest thing Mingyu’s ever witnessed - the way his hips twist on the bed, the way he clenches his jaw in an effort to maintain composure. The way his eyes darken, and keep following Mingyu’s expression, roaming delicately across his entire body. 

“Take that off,” Wonwoo says after a moment, voice rough. "Your-" He cuts off with a soft drawn-out moan, Mingyu still relentlessly teasing his nipples. 

“Take what off?” Mingyu pauses, looking up at Wonwoo.

“Your fucking - _this -_ “ Wonwoo’s hand reaches out, curling around the neckline of Mingyu’s t-shirt. His hand is shaking. “Take it off.”

Mingyu grins, a hot flash of pride running through his veins. “Can’t wait to see my amazing, legendary abs, can you?”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, huffs, but it doesn’t look very threatening with his disheveled hair and trembling exhales. “I’ve seen them,” he mutters, hands reaching out and tugging again. “I want to touch.”

Mingyu’s groin fills with heat. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Don’t make me say everything twice.”

“I’ll do whatever I want,” Mingyu says, but his lips quirk and his hands reach out and pull under his shirt, rolling it over his head. He throws it carelessly on the ground beneath him, and can feel Wonwoo watching him, trailing his gaze over the hard panes of his chest, to the muscles of his biceps, to the sheen of sweat covering all of his skin.

Working out at the gym gives Mingyu a boost of pride, a special kind of confidence, but seeing Wonwoo’s eyes dripping with want - that tops anything he’s ever felt. Wonwoo’s hands reach out for him, and Mingyu leans down and rests his bodyweight on top of Wonwoo, so that they’re pressed flush toward each other.

Wonwoo’s hands are cold and effortless as they glide over Mingyu’s back, steadying themselves over the solid muscle. Mingyu’s face is inches away from Wonwoo’s. He can smell Wonwoo, almost _taste_ him because his lips are so close, warm and pink and parted. Mingyu wants nothing more than to close the gap, but he reminds himself, _don’t. Wonwoo doesn’t want to._

The world seems far away, a distant whirlwind. They’re so close together that it feels like there’s no space between them at all, not even for air.

Mingyu feels exposed, draped over Wonwoo with his bare skin. Wonwoo’s body underneath him is tremorous, almost vibrating with heat, and it’s making it hard for Mingyu to breathe. Wonwoo’s hands slide down his back, palms spread, and it feels like _everything right._ It feels so fucking right to have Wonwoo’s hands on him.

Mingyu reaches for Wonwoo’s nipples again, tweaking them. The hands on Mingyu’s back clench, fingers digging into the sturdy skin there. Wonwoo simultaneously arches away, as if the sensation is too much. “Ah - ah- _fuck,_ ” Wonwoo manages as Mingyu draws his fingers away to instead brush the faint hickey on Wonwoo’s neck.

With their bodies tightly pinned together, Mingyu can feel Wonwoo underneath him, his cock straining against his joggers, and the slight hitch of his hips for friction. Mingyu knows he’s hard too, his brain heavy with desire, pupils blown, and _god,_ he wants this to last forever but he’s pretty sure he’ll _die_ if he keeps this slow pace up.

For fuck’s sake, aside from Mingyu’s shirt, they’re both still _clothed._

“Let me take care of you,” Mingyu breathes softly, hands reaching for Wonwoo’s shirt.  

Wonwoo’s eyes widen a fraction, and a beautiful flush goes up his cheeks. It’s a bigger reaction than he’d gotten from anything physical the whole night, and Mingyu swallows hard. He stares as Wonwoo looks away, embarrassment on his face. He doesn’t know if Wonwoo _hates_ what he’s said, or likes it.

It doesn’t matter. The pangs of hurt dig into his sides, but Mingyu ignores them. It's not his job to care.

In seconds, Wonwoo’s shirt is off, and Mingyu can see everything. The faint gleam of sweat on his body, his nipples, puffy and pink from Mingyu’s teasing, his perfect collarbones (Mingyu reaches out, kisses them with his wet tongue, and Wonwoo jerks at the gentle touch), to the bite marks on his neck, to the pink on his cheeks, to the tangle of dark hair on his head.

_You’re so beautiful._

Mingyu doesn’t say it. Swallows the words down once more.

Instead, he lets his hands squeeze into the space between the bedsheets and Wonwoo’s back. Lets his hands slide down his arching spine, and reaches out to cup his ass, still clad in joggers, and squeezes.

Wonwoo groans, almost brokenly, as Mingyu spreads his fingers and grips Wonwoo’s ass, keeping his hands there. Wonwoo’s hips shift upward, cock pressing against Mingyu’s, and Mingyu bites down on his tongue, feels his own cock twitch at the reciprocated pressure. They’re both so hard, and Wonwoo’s ass feels solid and firm beneath Mingyu’s hands.

“Fuck,” Mingyu says.

“Yeah.” Wonwoo’s teeth are pressed together. He grimaces. “Fuck, _please,_ ” he says, impatiently.

“Please, what?” Mingyu says, almost whimpering, _because fuck it,_ he loves making Wonwoo say what he wants with his own words. His hands slide down his ass, to the back of his thighs, and he presses an open-mouthed, sloppy kiss over Wonwoo’s nipple. Wonwoo quivers, and makes a distraught sound.

They’re so tightly wound together that there isn’t much room for movement, but Mingyu can feel Wonwoo’s hips trying to close any remaining distance between them. The friction is _too much_ but _not enough,_ not when both of them are still wearing pants. Fuck, he wants to take Wonwoo’s joggers and toss them into a fire. But he wants to hear him say it, _first._

“Mingyu,” Wonwoo says. “Fuck, c’ _mon._ ”

“I don’t know what you want me to do.”

Wonwoo almost _whines_ as Mingyu continues to slide his tongue teasingly down his collarbones, tracing his stomach and licking around his belly button. He kisses everywhere, nibbles at the more sensitive areas, keeps his mouth busy on Wonwoo’s skin, and Wonwoo twists underneath, his moans soft, barely audible. Restrained.

But Mingyu hears them. He always hears Wonwoo, no matter how quiet and subdued.

“What do you want?” Mingyu says, almost pleading, because the pressure against his crotch _hurts_ and he's starting to wonder if a person can die from arousal overdose. Wonwoo’s lithe, desperate body underneath him is enough to undo him.

“Mingyu. You _know._ Just - c’mon.”

“I really need to make sure, you know.” Mingyu breathes out, heavy. It’s not just for the teasing, he genuinely _needs_ to make sure he’s doing what they both want. He reaches out, gentle this time, hands stroking Wonwoo’s sweaty hair through his fingers. “What do you want?”

“I want you to — _you know._ ” He stutters, face glowing a warm pink. He pauses, swallows, like he’s trying to get the words out. “Please,” he finally says.

Mingyu’s eyes soften. He takes pity. “Do you want me to fuck your ass so hard that you see stars?” He gives Wonwoo’s ass a squeeze in time with his words. “Is that what you want?” He says, and Wonwoo shudders underneath him.

“ _Yes._ That’s what I want.” His hands tug at Mingyu’s hair, bringing him closer. His breath comes out shaky, ghosting over Mingyu’s lips.  “I want that.”

That’s all Mingyu needs, and his hands are ablaze on Wonwoo’s pants, gripping the double waistband of his joggers and boxers, and shimmying them down Wonwoo’s legs. And _fuck._

Wonwoo’s so hard, cock twitching up against his stomach, slippery with precum, faintly flushed from the unwelcome delay.

“You’re so hard,” Mingyu says, dumbly.

“Brilliant deduction,” Wonwoo says, but there’s no venom in his voice, just barely masked desperation.

Mingyu’s pretty sure he’s in the same state, and almost sighs in relief as Wonwoo’s hands fumble around his own pants, shaking as they undo the knot. His cock springs free, arching, wet at the head. It’s electrifying when he feels Wonwoo’s skin against it, their hips still resting against each other, Mingyu laying on top.

Wonwoo whimpers, and arches up against him. It enlivens Mingyu’s blood, a rush of heat gathering at his head, and Mingyu thinks, _if we keep this up, we’re going to make each other come just by the friction._ That’s not how Mingyu wants this night to go, so with a pained noise, he forces himself to sit up, now straddling either side of Wonwoo.

He’s pretty sure he looks like a hot mess. Can feel his hair sweat-soaked, sticking to his forehead. He’s sure his lips are a plush red, vibrations of arousal curling around his hammering heart. He doesn’t have time to feel embarrassed though, not when he looks at Wonwoo, who looks _lethal._

Naked, cock straining against his stomach, thighs quivering underneath Mingyu, hair unkempt. A flush spread over his neck and face. Eyes almost _tearful -_ Mingyu can’t tell, Wonwoo keeps fluttering his eyes half-closed, like he’s trying hard to maintain some kind of resolve. Mingyu traces a hand down Wonwoo’s arm.

It’s not an erogenous zone, but Wonwoo still shivers at the touch, and Mingyu’s chest tightens. His hand slips back down, and his palm feels like it’s smoldering as he cups the swell of Wonwoo’s ass again, this time with no clothing in the way. It’s quiet now, the only sound their unsynchronized breathing.

Mingyu’s hand traces down Wonwoo’s ass to the ticklish hollow in the center, teasingly brushing his finger near the entrance. It’s hard with Wonwoo laying against the bed, but Wonwoo bucks his hips upward to allow Mingyu better access.

Despite his own compulsion, Mingyu just lingers at the entrance, fingers brushing the opening, back and forth, over and over. Almost a minute passes, _much_ too long for the slow, absentminded movement of Mingyu’s hands, and Wonwoo’s a trembling mess underneath him.

Wonwoo begs now, voice cracking. “Stop. I can’t take it anymore.”

It’s titillating, the half-gone desperation in his voice. But Mingyu stops, obeys unquestionably, and gives Wonwoo one last firm squeeze on the ass, before leaving his hand bereft.

“Not - _not stop,_ ” Wonwoo says.

“I know.” Mingyu shakes his head, pressing his palms flat on Wonwoo’s stomach. “I haven’t done this before, but I’m pretty sure we need an important thing called lube.”

“Do we?” Wonwoo says reluctantly.

Mingyu laughs. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure we do.”

“I don’t think we have any.” Wonwoo says this sadly, and Mingyu chokes back another laugh. 

Mingyu ignores Wonwoo’s questioning gaze, removing himself from around Wonwoo’s hips and pelvis. The loss of sticky, heated contact is jarring, but he flimsily stumbles off of the bed. He shuffles around, unzipping his suitcase and looking through layers of clothing. It’s all neatly organized, but at the bottom, hidden in one of his overworn beanies, is a small tube of lube.

When Mingyu looks up, Wonwoo’s eyes are vividly staring him down.

“What is it?” Mingyu says, suddenly self-conscious that he’s been parading around naked, everything on display.

“You look.” Wonwoo licks his lips. “You look really good.”

Sparks flutter through Mingyu’s chest, and his hand tightens around the lube in his hand. “You really think so?” he says, because he’s always loved making his body look good, but it’s one thing to praise himself and another for Wonwoo to praise him. But Wonwoo’s eyes are dark and honest, gaze sweltering as he scopes Mingyu’s body.

“I don’t _think_ so,” Wonwoo says. “I’m certain.”

Mingyu flushes, and he ruffles a hand through his hair. “Glad you like the view.” Pleasure hums through him, and he uncaps the bottle and coats his fingers in lube. Wonwoo stares at him, watching the way his fingers glisten and drip, and makes a pitiful, strained noise. His hand reaches down for his cock, almost subconsciously, before twitching and settling on his side instead. “Where did you even get that?”

Mingyu feels a faint blush on his cheeks. “I use it sometimes.”

“For?” Wonwoo raises an eyebrow.

“What do you _think_?”

Wonwoo stares at him, then turns a shade of pink sunset. “Oh. I see.”  

Mingyu snorts, because _really,_ he’s about to fuck Wonwoo in the ass. Having a bottle of lube for masturbation is the least of his scandalous acts. Once Mingyu’s hands are slick with lube, he gathers himself back on the bed. “Turn around a little, yeah?” he says. It’s less of a question, more of an order.  

But Wonwoo obeys, and Mingyu sucks in a breath. Wonwoo looks so beautiful spread out on the bed, ass on display, just _waiting,_ all for Mingyu. Wonwoo shifts against the bed, garnering friction for his aching cock.

“Hey, be careful,” Mingyu says, hands settling around Wonwoo’s hips. “You don’t want to come before the good stuff.”

He can’t see Wonwoo’s face, but he hears a faint grumble as Wonwoo’s body stills. Mingyu doesn’t like it though, not being able to comfortably hold Wonwoo like this. He wants to feel every trembling, strained muscle in Wonwoo’s body. So Mingyu slips onto the bed, lying on his side and brings his hand gently over Wonwoo’s chest, straightening him vertical so Mingyu’s spooning him. He presses them flush together, Wonwoo’s back against his chest and-

“Oh. _Fuck,_ ” Wonwoo says softly, and Mingyu thinks, _yeah, oh fuck._ His brain short circuits, because he can feel Wonwoo’s ass right against his cock, the pressure kindling another wave of arousal. He groans, mouth near Wonwoo’s neck, and slides his hand down Wonwoo’s side. Hipbone. Thighs. Ass. He can feel the humming tension underneath his hand, the skin soft and sweating.

He slips a lube-slicked finger down to Wonwoo’s ass, teasing the opening again. Slips his hand around the entrance, gliding his wet, slick fingers up and down. He’s prolonging it, this time not because he _wants_ to make Wonwoo wait, but because he feels a slight thread of hesitation. Does he just go right in?

Wonwoo presses back against him, needy. “Can you hurry the fuck up before I - _Ah!_ ”

“Sorry, sorry - I just wanted to -” Mingyu’s slipped a finger in, halfway past the knuckle. He’d just wanted to _see_ how it felt, and he watches as Wonwoo’s hand tightens around the bedsheet. “Is this okay, are you-”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. It feels weird.”

Mingyu’s heart goes to his throat. “Does it hurt?”

“No.” Wonwoo’s shaking though, and Mingyu smoothes his free hand down Wonwoo’s back, trying to comfort him. “It just feels strange.” 

Mingyu relaxes a little at that, because he’s pretty sure it’s supposed to feel weird at the beginning, and as long as Wonwoo isn’t _hurting,_ Mingyu can deal with this. He hums softly, tracing his hand up and down Wonwoo’s spine, and presses a soft kiss on his shoulder. “Can I try going in more?” he asks after a minute.

There’s barely a pause, but it’s enough for Mingyu’s heart to stutter. But then Wonwoo’s saying, “Yeah, yeah, try going more,” insistently pressing into his finger, and the knotted panic fades from his chest.

Mingyu pushes his finger further, and Wonwoo clenches at the intrusion.

“Relax, relax,” Mingyu beckons. It takes a moment, but Wonwoo relaxes, and Mingyu manages to get his finger all the way in, past the quivering muscles, and brushes past a knot inside him. He feels Wonwoo arch against him, trembling. “Oh that - that kind of felt good,” he says, and Mingyu’s stomach flutters. “Do that again.”

So he does. And Wonwoo quivers against Mingyu, breathing sharply.

Despite his gay revelation being quite recent and abrupt, Mingyu _knows_ there’s a spot that’s the targeted pleasure button, that’ll have Wonwoo breaking underneath him, and he _thinks_ it’s the spot Wonwoo just arched against, but he has to find the right angle. He tries twisting his finger, bearing down, and Wonwoo whimpers.

“Oh - oh god,” he says.

“That feel good?” Mingyu asks.

“Yeah. Please.” Wonwoo’s hips wiggle into his finger, almost like he’s trying to ride it, and Mingyu’s already hard, leaking cock twitches against Wonwoo’s thigh, _because fuck._ Fuck. This is unbearable. His hands are dripping with lube - he’s pretty sure he went overboard with it - but it makes it that much easier to slip a second finger in.

Wonwoo’s hips hitch upward, and Mingyu strokes his fingers in time.

And Wonwoo _moans,_ the first _real_ moan he’s done all night, and the sound goes right to Mingyu’s cock. “That good?” he asks, roughly, swallowing. Wonwoo doesn’t respond, just pushes his ass against Mingyu’s hand, and _fuck,_ that’s an answer as much as anything else.

It doesn’t take long for Mingyu to figure it out - hell, he’s _always_ been a fast learner. His fingers stretch and stroke, sending sparks of pleasure. Wonwoo shudders against him.

“Mingyu, _more,_ ” he says.

“I thought I should take it slow,” Mingyu says, amusedly. “You know, since it’s our first tim-”

“Shut _up._ ” His hips press into Mingyu’s hand. “ _More._ ”

“So demanding.” Mingyu laughs, but it’s a deep, carnal laugh, because Wonwoo’s _desperate_ for this, and Mingyu doesn’t think he can wait much longer either. He slides a third finger in, and Wonwoo clenches around it immediately, bearing down. And Mingyu’s fucking _gone._ He feels lightheaded, thrumming pleasure running through his veins.

Wonwoo bucks back into his hand, and Mingyu’s free hand reaches up, tangles into Wonwoo’s hair, his mouth pressing kisses against Wonwoo’s back and neck. “God, fuck, you’re so _needy,”_ Mingyu says, breathless. “I want to be inside you, I want to - I want to fuck you, and I know it’s our first time, and maybe we should wait it out but-” His cock twitches, and he groans. “Do you feel ready? Do you think you can take me now? Because I’m fucking _ready,_ and I don’t think I’ve ever wanted something so badly in my life.”

He’s aware his mouth is running at light speed, but he’s roused and at his limit, and babbling incoherently is Mingyu’s specialty.

Wonwoo just curls against him, shivering. He lets out a thready, “ _P_ _lease._ In. Now.”

He doesn't have to ask twice. Mingyu’s hand slides out of Wonwoo’s ass. A sharp burst of pleasure renows over Mingyu as he watches Wonwoo’s hole clench and flutter around nothing.

“Mingyu,” Wonwoo says, sounding overwhelmed _,_ nearly in tears, and Mingyu can’t blame him. He feels the same way - like the lust coiling in his stomach is going to overthrow him. “I know, I know,” Mingyu fumbles, hands going around his impossibly hard cock, and lines it up against Wonwoo’s ass. “Are you sure? Are you okay? Because I’m going to -”

Wonwoo’s ass presses insistently up against Mingyu’s head, and Mingyu groans - or _growls -_ he’s not even sure anymore. It’s electrifying, his cock achingly hard, and the friction is too much. Mingyu pushes the head in, hand tight on Wonwoo’s shoulders, and watches as Wonwoo impulsively pushes his hips back, trying to speed things up.

“Is this - okay?” Mingyu nearly gasps.

“Yes. Go more. I can take _more._ Fuck, _please,_ Mingyu.”

It’s dizzying. Almost frightening.

Mingyu remembers how he’d promised Wonwoo he wouldn’t hold back tonight, how Wonwoo said, _destroy me,_ and in one swift motion, Mingyu’s slides his cock all the way in, pushing past the rim, and Wonwoo’s whole body jumps. “Ahh- _ah -_ ” but Mingyu can barely hear it over his own obnoxiously loud, “Oh my fucking god.”

“Are you okay?” Mingyu asks after a moment, voice tremulous. He kneads his hands over Wonwoo’s quivering back. “God, you’re so tight, you feel _so good._ ”

Wonwoo sounds _wrecked,_ normally deep voice high-pitched and frantic. “Yeah, yeah, I think I’m fine, I don’t know, I _don’t_ know.” He’s trembling again, every muscle held taut, and Mingyu knows it must be the initial discomfort. He can’t imagine what it feels like for Wonwoo, to have Mingyu’s whole cock inside of him. It probably feels like being split in two, and _god, why is that so hot, why is imagining the way Wonwoo must feel, stretched and desperate and-_ Mingyu groans, thrusting inward slightly.

He must brush against Wonwoo’s prostate, because Wonwoo gasps, fingers curling even tighter around the bedsheet. Mingyu watches the lines of the sheet crumple around Wonwoo’s hand, Wonwoo instinctively drawing the entire thing inward.

“Again,” Wonwoo nearly begs.

But he doesn’t just wait for Mingyu - he rolls his hips back, riding Mingyu’s cock, and Mingyu’s eyes shutter, groaning at the friction. His own hips move in time, jolting forward, but Wonwoo pushes back just as insistently, like Mingyu can’t _possibly_ set a fast enough pace, and god, it feels a bit like a heated, sex-slicked battle, one that has Mingyu’s cock tightening, drawing close.

He knows neither of them are going to last long. Wonwoo’s a whimpering mess, and both of them have dragged it out, careful and hesitant and explorative. Mingyu’s breath comes out in short gasps as he meets Wonwoo’s prostate - again, and again, sending flickering sparks of pleasure down Wonwoo’s entire body.

“Ah- ah, _I’m_ \- I can’t-” Wonwoo stutters words out, and none of it really makes any sense, but _Mingyu agrees._

They’re both on the edge now, and Mingyu reaches down, hand stumbling, brushing Wonwoo’s nipple, the tight, tensing of his lower stomach, and goes to wrap around Wonwoo’s cock, but finds Wonwoo’s hand already there, fisting it, and groans, drawing back. They’re both on the edge, so fucking close, Wonwoo’s reeling against him and -

For a moment, it’s almost as if Mingyu transcends the moment, as if during the peak of his orgasm, everything slows down, stops. The world feels so far away, and Mingyu looks at Wonwoo, takes him in, this _beautiful boy,_ his beautiful best friend, hair disheveled, pressed against Mingyu, trusting him with everything, and a sob threatens to break loose from Mingyu’s throat.

_I love you._

Wonwoo clenches beautifully around him, and Mingyu’s crashing back down to reality, undone, coming hard, liquid heat spilling inside Wonwoo. It’s almost as if Wonwoo was holding back for him, because only seconds after, Wonwoo lets out out a guttural moan, and comes with his hand fisted around his cock, splattering onto his stomach and dripping over his fingers.

Everything feels fuzzy, and Mingyu’s head feels airy as he settles back down, slips out of Wonwoo. Lays his head on the cool pillow.

It takes time for the haze to dissipate. Takes time for the vibrant humming in Mingyu’s ears and veins to calm down, settle into a normal, quiet rhythm. Wonwoo’s heavy breathing beside him trails off into a more steady pattern, until Mingyu can barely hear it, and the sound of cars in the distance revers back into focus. The window’s still cracked open, Mingyu realizes, but it’s facing the back highway. The summer breeze creeps in, and Mingyu’s heart draws tight around him. He turns his head, sweat still lingering on his cooling skin, and tries to look at Wonwoo, but Wonwoo’s curled away from him, and he can only see his back, his messy hair.

Mingyu reaches his hand out, hesitant. His fingers curl back at the last minute, inches away from Wonwoo’s neck. “Wonwoo-hyung?” he asks.

It feels almost silly to tack on the _hyung_ now, after everything they’ve just done, but it only serves as a painful reminder that Mingyu still has no idea where they stand. His stomach plummets, and a hard ball forms in his throat, a lump that has Mingyu rapidly blinking back tears.

Wonwoo doesn’t respond, and Mingyu’s heart feels like it’s splitting. He’s trying to blink back fuzzy traces of tears when he finds dark eyes staring at him. Wonwoo's turned around to look at him, and Mingyu clears his throat.

“I can’t believe we did that,” Wonwoo says.

Mingyu laughs, anxiety skittering through him. “Yeah. I - uhm -” He tries to find words, any words that will make this all make sense, but instead his brain shuts down. He thinks about what Wonwoo said, before all of this. F _or the game._ Bitterness laces around his heart

“I guess the game ends now,” Mingyu says. He shrugs, offering a half-hearted, hollow grin. “I think it’s safe to call it a tie.”

Wonwoo’s face shifts. Almost crumples. “Is that what you think?”

“I definitely didn’t _lose,_ ” Mingyu says.

Except he’s pretty sure he did. He’s pretty sure he lost something with Wonwoo, even though he can’t figure out exactly _what._

There’s a strange expression on Wonwoo’s face, one that almost seems to mirror Mingyu’s, but Mingyu brushes it away, because he doesn’t understand any of this, and Wonwoo’s the one who insistently brings up the word _game_ whenever they do something. When he meets Wonwoo’s face again, any trace of _anything_ is gone.

It’s like he’s completely shut down, like they didn’t just have sex in the hotel, fumbling hands touching every inch of each other. He points to his stomach, and lets out a wry laugh. “I guess I should clean this up?”

Mingyu stares at him. Blinks. “Wonwoo-hyung?

“This was fun.” Wonwoo’s already standing up, hands thumbing around for his shirt and boxers, reaching for the glasses he’d set aside on the bedside table. Mingyu doesn’t understand the shift, doesn’t understand it at _all,_ but then it hits him. Maybe Wonwoo’s trying to _ease_ things. That’s probably the right thing to do. Pretend everything is normal now.

Wonwoo’s smart. He knows how to allow their friendship to resume, and Mingyu nods his head rapidly in understanding. That makes sense. Mingyu’ll just stitch his broken, _breaking,_ glass heart, pretend none of this happened, smile widely like sunshine falls out of his ass, and resume being Wonwoo’s best friend.

Yeah. He can do that.

It’s what Wonwoo clearly wants, with the way he’s moving, suddenly and with purpose. Wonwoo’s already at the bathroom door within seconds, but then he pauses, grimaces. “God, my ass fucking hurts now,” he says. “I have no idea how I’m going to perform tomorrow.”

“Oh, shit,” Mingyu says, mostly from reflex, because his head still feels like it’s somewhere underwater.

“Oh, well. You can pay me back,” Wonwoo says. “Make me some ramyeon when we get home?”

A silent peace offering. A return to their friendship.

Mingyu feels cold all over, like a knife is driving into his ribs and Mingyu’s under a heavy dose of morphine to numb the feeling.  

He shrugs, grins prettily, and says: “Yeah. Hell, ramyeon’s too easy. I’ll make you something good.”

“Thanks.” Wonwoo smiles then, quick, easy, and closes the bathroom door shut behind him. Disappearing. Leaving Mingyu staring at the foot of the bed, a dull thumping in the back of his chest.

It's silent, and now there's nothing left to drive away Mingyu's pulsing dread. 

Because the game? It's over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, I hope that was okay *nervous laughter* this was actually my first time writing out a full smut scene. I've read plenty of it of course, but damn, this took a lot out of me. Let me know what you think :-)


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